


Superdorks

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sciles, Teen Wolf, Teen Wolf AU, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a college lab disaster involving a radioactive cockatiel gave him incredible powers, the superhero Wonder Boy has made it his responsibility to protect the city of Beacon Hills. It's not easy balancing his normal life as Scott McCall, his secret crush on his hot roommate Stiles, and still finding time to stop his evil arch-nemesis Smashingo from mildly irritating the police. A shame he doesn't know that the face under Smashingo's mask is a familiar one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oodles of Noodles

Scott sniffed, wiping a smear of blood from his nose with the back of his glove. He scowled darkly at his enemy, his nemesis who stood smirking at the top of the mall with his…stupid smirking smirk. He really needed to think of some better comebacks, but those horrible puns were a villain sort of thing and Wonder Boy was supposed to be above that kind of petty banter. The worst part was trying to keep a straight face when his enemy actually cracked a funny joke, it would be really unprofessional to start giggling in the middle of a battle. Superheroes were supposed to have standards!

He put his hands on his hips, striking his best heroic pose as he hovered by the roof of the mall. “Are you done with the lame jokes so I can drag your butt to jail or are we going to have to do this the hard way?” They never wanted to make this easy. He’d been heroing for the better part of a year after that horrible accident in college involving a weird experiment in a secret lab of the science building and what he could only assume was some kind of radioactive cockatiel. Super powers were a whole lot more useful than mutating into a feather covered monster, so it was always important to look on the bright side.

A small device on his belt beeped and the hero winced. He was late again, his roommate was waiting for him so they could carpool home and Scott was going to let him down. Stiles was going to kill him. “Can we wrap this up? Maybe cut your whole manifesto down a few minutes? I have places to be.”

Maniacal laughter echoed ominously. Behind Wonder Boy, the police cowered under their shields, the ground littered with twisted and mangled bits of spaghetti. The streets were spilled with crimson, and Smashingo thrived on their fear. “Is the water getting too hot for you, Wonder Bra?! I can do this all day  _long_.”

The thing about being a starving college student with a single dad was that it didn’t take much to rattle their boat. Once upon a time, Smashingo had been just a regular stress-drowned sap with too many student loans. Then tragedy struck, and he had to get a little more creative with where he found his cash. A couple of stints at questionable drug trials, a natural aversion to eating healthy, and dangerous use of pesticide on a wheat farm all lead to who he was today.

Smashingo cackled once more, a little high on too much gatorade and adrenaline. He got to his knees, scrunched his face up in concentration so hard his stomach knotted and he lost feeling in his tongue. Then the windows just above Wonder Boy shattered, sending almost 20 pounds of uncooked pasta hurtling towards his biggest obstacle.

If the hero survived, the tomato gun would take care of the rest.

“Sonofa-!” Wonder Boy ducked, trying to shield himself from the onslaught. “I don’t have time for this.” Stiles was never going to let him hear the end of it if he was late  _again_ , he already had a reputation. The hero threw up a barrier, blocking most of the debris and wincing as a few strands of hard, uncooked pasta managed to slice through. Those suckers were a lot sharper than he thought and he squeezed his arm tight where a strand had cut through his uniform, leaving a bleeding wound. “Why can’t any of you ever just wait until the weekend to try and take over the city, huh?”

He dove closer, hands glowing brightly as he charged his fists with energy. With a shout of rage, he brought it crashing down on the roof of the mall hard enough to make the entire building shake. Come on, come on, he needed to wrap this up. Why wasn’t stupid Smashingo staying still? “Will you fight me, you butthole? Stop running around like a coward!”

The hero only got a tomato to the face for his trouble. Wonder Boy huffed, trying to scoop the goo out of his mask. “SERIOUSLY?!”

And Smashingo punched Wonder Boy in the jaw.

“MWAHAHA!”

It wasn’t his best rebuttal, but he was out of breath and kind of disoriented. Flying down a mall’s outer wall was not easy, no matter how easy Smashingo made it look. He kind of wanted to wheeze to death at Wonder Boy’s feet, but he didn’t have time for this. He had places to be!

With a war cry, Smashingo smashed (apt name is apt; Wonder Boy looked nothing like Wonder Woman) his bag of loot over the hero’s head. Wads of cash, the newest phones from RadioShack, and an entire display case of cookies packed a punch. Then he charged. With flailing fists and uncooked pasta, he tried to take his nemesis down! It was a battle of skill and grace, and certainly did not involve two guys trying to slap each other unconscious.

It looked like he was going to win. It looked like all those half-hours of eating at the yogurt shop beside the gym were actually paying off. Smashingo slashed a wad of uncooked pasta across his nemesis’ chest, but didn’t see that right wing come in. He hit the ground hard, his bag tearing open, sending cookies and dough everywhere. The cops were getting reinforcements. Smashingo turned tail and ran. 

Wonder Boy picked himself up with a pained groan, waving at the police to pursue the escaping villain and hoping no one saw him get his ass handed to him by some scrawny idiot with a fist full of pasta. He squashed the urge to shake his fist at the retreating Smashingo’s back and wondered if the police would finally manage to catch him this time. If it had been any other day, he would have stayed and helped with the hunt, he didn’t trust the cops to be able to handle even the lamest villains on their own. The device at his waist beeped insistently again and he sighed.

What were the odds the police could do this without him?

Next time, definitely next time. That asshole was going to pay for ruining every single second of free time he’d had in the past few weeks, Wonder Boy wasn’t going to rest until his bony ass was in jail. With an apologetic wave at the police chief who scowled angrily at the retreating hero, he bolted.

Scott raced back across town, stuffed his uniform into his backpack and hopped on his motorbike, speeding as fast as the poor overworked engine could go back to campus. By the time he pulled up, the bike was billowing smoke and Scott was out of breath but still managed a crooked smile. “Hey dude, I’m sorry I’m late!”

___

Turning things into spaghetti was really hard. That wasn’t a joke…even if it really sounded like one. It took a lot of concentration, and a lot of focus, and Smashingo couldn’t really do it in the middle of battle without looking like he was pooping himself (or actually pooping himself). The tomato gun was fun, but a heavy responsibility. He was a respectable villain. He needed to follow his _theme._ Also, it was surprising easy to steal tomatoes? And he would rather eat meatballs. 

What Smashingo could do on the run was turn himself into pasta - sort of. All at once, his limbs wiggled and wobbled like cooked noodles, and practically flat, the super villain ducked between two buildings to shake the police, before working his way down to his secret lair among the abandoned warehouses. He’d lost a lot of his loot, but he still had more than enough cash to pay for the next two months of rent. Then he got naked really quick, and took off.

Smashingo disappeared, but Stiles stumbled through the front doors of his college.

“Dude, where the Hell have you been!?”

God bless, Scott McCall and his eternal tardiness. Stiles had no idea what he’d do if his roommate was ever on time.

Relief was temporary, and the rant he’d been saving died before it got a chance to really live. Stiles frowned like he wasn’t thousands of dollars richer (and one cookie, one of them survived). There was an angry bruise all across the other boy’s face, and Stiles saw red. 

Fuck, he wished Scott hadn’t been late.

Scott beamed, pulling off his motorcycle helmet and letting his sweaty black hair spike in every direction. The only evidence of his nervousness was the way he twisted his fingers into the helmet’s strap, trying to play off the bruises and scrapes like it was no big deal. He grinned as widely as he could even if it hurt, jaw swollen from Smashingo’s last punch. That asshole could sure hit hard for a lame villain, Scott was going to have to step up his game and avoid his nemesis’s fists. Coming home covered in bruises always led to a lecture.

“I’m so so so sorry, dude. I totally lost track of time and spaced, I really need to get a better alarm on my phone and set it every time I need to be somewhere. I owe you one, I promise I won’t be late next time.” He said earnestly, trying to brush past the excuse. Scott put a hand to the aching side of his face and lied his ass off. “Had a tiny itty bitty little bike mishap, wasn’t even my fault. There was a rabbit that hopped out into the rode and I bailed. Thankfully I wasn’t going really fast?” He had usually been an expert at lying, but living with Stiles meant he’d burned through most of his plausible excuses months ago.

“It’s no big deal, nothing really hurt. Don’t worry about it, I promise I’m totally fine!”

Scott McCall was a problem. He was the lamest, nerdiest nerd to ever nerd. He had no sense of humor, exercised way too early, didn’t appreciate  _culture_ , and had a heart big enough to sink the Titanic, even without an iceberg’s help. He was also probably the hottest thing that had ever been in Stiles’s life, and when Stiles was 9, he’d gotten so sunburned that he couldn’t even lie down. The brunette might have wanted to feed him pie and bury him in blankets and touch his butt all the time.

Stiles fussed, and tried to disguise his fussing. It was pretty difficult though, when he was dragging his roommate into his armpit and brushing over his jaw.

“Dude, you can’t drive then. We could… Take the bus or something. What the butts were you thinking? Who friggin swerves for rabbits?!”

Scott did.

Scott was a problem because his entire story was feasible. He was just that sort of guy, and if Stiles didn’t know any better, he would have been chastising him because rabbits had nine lives or something, and Scott only had one. Except Stiles knew better. Sure he was a badass  ~~local~~  super villain, but there were lines people couldn’t cross, like beating up impossibly cute college students. Also, villain was so dramatic. Stiles preferred alternative business man.

Oh thank butts, Stiles actually bought it! For a guy who was one of the smartest people Scott knew, he still had no idea how Stiles still believed anything out of his mouth. He needed to be more honest, there had to be a better way to balance all the lies.

Scott did his best not to preen under his roommate’s attention, heart fluttering as Stiles’s fingers traced along his sore jaw. This was the best worst part of dragging his bruised backside home. He might have been able to convince Stiles of his lies, but Scott couldn’t lie to himself when the other boy’s worried face was inches away from his own and his touch was so gentle. It was wrong to enjoy the attention so much or to wish…

No. Scott couldn’t go down that road again. His life was too dangerous and what kind of relationship could he ever offer someone when he couldn’t even be friends without lying every time he opened his mouth? That was even if Stiles didn’t kick him out of the apartment for daring to cross their bromo-no-homo line. The boy ducked awkwardly away from his friend’s fingers, tossing Stiles the extra helmet. “I told you, no big deal. I just need to be more careful sometimes. You have my word I won’t dump us over on the way home though?”

He pulled his helmet on to hide his face, the only way he’d be able to make it home with Stiles pressed behind him on his motorbike without blushing to death. “You wanna pick up dinner on the way? I’m sort of feeling like Italian.”

“Pasta?”

Stiles was not quietly smug that his roommate would never know how they could have unlimited Italian for the rest of their lives. He still scowled at the helmet. It was obviously a shitty helmet that didn’t know how to do its job, or like, tell its helmet friends how to do theirs. He was going to pick up a liter of ice cream to smush Scott’s face against. He sat down too quickly, head knocking against the back of his roommate’s skull. He deserved it probably. The dull ache helped distract Stiles from how close his hands were to the edge of Scott’s shirt, and maybe he could just reach under, a little, just enough to make him feel like trash.

“But we gotta stop by the minimart after. I’m gonna shove peas in your face.”

Scott’s back was nice. This memory was going to be spank bank material until Stiles turned forty. It wasn’t fair how nice Scott’s back was, or how little Stiles would have to wiggle if he just wanted to, you know,  _feel_  things. Certain things. Certain round, bubble things. Things he dreamed about sticking other things in. It was a testament to Scott’s awesomeness that despite being thoroughly distracted, Stiles could still say, “Hey dude, you know my dad’s a Sheriff right? Like… I can deal with ‘rabbits’.”

His roommate muffled a quiet sigh. Don’t think about Stiles’s hands wrapped around his hips. Don’t think about the way Stiles leaned against his back or definitely don’t think about the way Stiles’s hips pressed against his ass. Oh god, Scott was going to have to get a car one of these days, trying to ride a motorbike was dangerous enough without all the distractions.

“Yuck, peas.” Scott whined, grateful for the distraction. “I’m going to buy four boxes of frozen burritos in protest.” He grinned behind his helmet, leaning back to knock his head against Stiles’s again. “The next time a rogue ‘bunny’ beats me up, I’ll give the sketch artist a full description so your Dad can track it down for me. Or maybe you can beat the furry bastard up yourself, you’d be my hero.”

 “Scooott.” Stiles whined back because no one was allowed to beat Scott up. That wasn’t even a joke. Except maybe if Scott wanted to be beat up the sexy way, like maybe Stiles thought about that a couple of times, but it was totally a natural reaction to how often his roommate came home with bumps and bruises and really shiny lips!

Scott revved the engine and took off in a cloud of smoke, laughing at the way his roommate’s arms tightened around him. After a quick trip to the minimart and his patented pouting face to add a box of chocolate donut holes to Stiles’s green vegetables, he pulled up in front of their apartment. It was important to have a balanced diet after all and a sphere was a perfectly balanced shape. “You get the pasta, I’ll boil the water. Go on, my big brave bunny whacker.”

 

Then there was, “Scooott!” Because seriously, what was that? Why was Scott holding up peas? They didn’t even feel like peas! They were a block of cold stuff. They came in here for ice cream, oh my god Scott, put down the vegetables GOD! 

Stiles let the frozen burritos stay. Maybe he’d let a lot more things stay, if he could glue himself to his best friend more often.

“Dude, I mean it!” Stiles complained, turning on the television. He went digging through their grocery bags and made sure the coast was clear, before he pulled out the box of spaghetti, removed half, and just… Made more. Stiles made sure to put it in the cupboard before his roommate noticed, and broke the noodles over their one pot. They’d only bought their second bowl last month. Scott’s mom kept threatening to send over cutlery. Stiles kind of loved her. “I’m here to defend you against rabbits. Now shut up and take off your shirt. Gonna ice your tits or whatever.”

Because “accidents” generally didn’t end with just one injury.

Scott flopped on the couch with a muffled groan, muscles protesting the rough treatment. He’d heal faster than a normal human would thanks to his little condition, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like crazy the entire time. He really needed to find a way to spend more time at the gym, maybe if he added a little more muscle to his slim frame, he’d be able to take down a supervillain without coming home looking like he’d been in a bar brawl. Or maybe he should modify his uniform. Spandex was great for flexibility and he had to admit he didn’t look so bad in it, but he could add in some padding. Maybe some kind of body armor to protect his sensitive bits? It would be humiliating if he lost a fight due to a crotch kick.

“Just don’t freak out, okay?” He said, trying to prepare his friend as Scott gingerly peeled off his shirt and left it on the floor. His body was covered in swollen welts and bruises. A few deep cuts still had a smear of blood across his dark skin, but most of it had scabbed over. Pasta could be sharp if it came at you like a knife. “It was sort of a gang of rabbits? Real bad group, high school dropouts and drug addicts. They were all wearing leather jackets.” Scott tried to pass it all off as a joke.

“Oh dude!” He perked up, turning up the volume on the television to try and distract his roommate. “Look, they’re running a new story on that superhero guy. He’s sort of cool, don’t you think?”

Stiles dropped the remote.

“Holy shit!” 

He missed his cue to laugh, face scrunching up like he’d bit into a lemon, but Stiles couldn’t stop the way he hovered. His hands skittered over Scott’s skin like he was too afraid to touch. Maybe they should have bought those peas.

“I’m calling an ambulance.” He decided, stern and just a hint too shrill because he hated hospitals, for many reasons, but recently he’d tacked on another one to his not inconsiderable list. There was always some chance that a really practiced surgeon or something would look at him and just know he wasn’t exactly human anymore. He was super pasta. 

“You gonna get punched in the face like that guy, too!?” He snapped, fumbling for his phone. Scott needed bandages and stuff,  _again_ , and Stiles didn’t want to think about why they were so good at keeping their first aid kit stocked. They only had one pot, but they  _had_  a friggin first aid kit. He was going to find the bastards who did this. He was going to make them hurt.

Stiles did a great job of not freaking out.

The boy dragged himself off the couch and put his hand over the Stiles’s phone, wrestling it away. “I don’t need an ambulance, I’m  _fine_. You’re doing that thing again, don’t do that thing.” Scott tried to talk his friend down, keeping the phone away from him. “You know I’m a quick healer. I just need a couple of aspirin and a nap, I’ll be okay.”

It was hard to be reassuring when he looked like he’d been wrecked, but as long as Stiles didn’t end up calling an actual ambulance, everything would be okay. If his mom found out he’d been to the hospital, she’d swoop down immediately and he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of it. He couldn’t lie about how quickly he’d heal to an actual nurse. Stiles trying to call his Dad would be just as terrible, he didn’t know if he could sell the rabbit story to the police.

“Please?” He knocked Stiles’s elbow gently. “Don’t do this. It was an accident and it looks a whole lot worse than it really is. I didn’t want you to worry, I’ve got this. Just trust me, dude.”

“Scott you look like some kid with his first paint set went wild on you.” Stiles grumbled. He couldn’t seem to get his eyebrows to stop pushing down, like they were trying to reach his nose. “And all his colors were blue and gross.”

Scott shouldn’t have been standing. This was a mess. Stiles couldn’t take care of a cactus. He once thought letting his pet boa constrictor run loose in his house because he thought letting it find its own mice would be smarter than feeding it regularly. Yet he wanted to do all that stupid, get-well-soon montage stuff he saw on television.

Even if Scott didn’t have health insurance, Stiles could help a lot with the bill… And Smashingo would help even more. He huffed, carefully running a hand up and down Scott’s arm. If they kept this up, he was going to do something reckless. Whenever he was around Scott, he wanted to do something reckless, like hold on and never let go.

“Next time this happens you call me,” he whispered heatedly, and when he leaned in, wrapping his arms around the other man, Stiles refused to let himself feel embarrassed. “We’ll catch them okay? I’ll - I’ll make you a little rabbit coat.”

He’d stab their eyes out with pasta, urgh.

Scott bit back a yelp of pain, biting his lip as Stiles squeezed his bruised ribs so the other boy didn’t know how much it hurt. He gingerly wrapped his arms around his roommate, flushing under the blue and purple. If Stiles was this nice to him, maybe he could get his ass kicked more often. It was embarrassing how much he enjoyed the attention, he couldn’t let this go too far.

“Next time I get beaten up by an evil gang of rabbits, you’ll be the very first person I call.” He promised with a grin, sobering slightly as he poked Stiles’s hip. “I mean it. If I was in trouble, I’d call you for help but I’ve got this. There’s just this one really stubborn rabbit that I need to deal with, but I’ll figure it out. All I need is a good plan to get him to stop and problem solved. Trust me, I can handle this without unleashing your pointy elbows at him. That’s not even fair for stupid bunnies.”

He held on a little bit longer than he should have, but he was hurt. He had an excuse. “Can I help with dinner? I’m not broken or anything, I’m feeling better already.”

Stiles scoffed, turning his nose up in disgust. Only Scott would ignore this opportunity to be waited on hand and foot by exceptionally lazy service. Stiles took his pampering very seriously. He’d just much rather be on the receiving end, but he was willing to make an exception.

“You sit there, and hold your burritos to your face, and I‘m gonna like, check nipnop perkiness to make sure you’re icing everything. Seriously, dude, this is embarrassing. You should be embarrassed.” Maybe if Stiles shamed him enough, Scott would tell him who did this to him. They could key the bastard’s car together, and then Stiles would just… Cheat. A little. All was fair in love, war, and beating up assholes who hurt hot roommates.

 “Yeah, okay. Hand me the ice and I’ll freeze my nipnops off.” Scott rolled his eyes and covered his tits like he was bashful. “Your face is embarrassing.” The truth was, he was embarrassed. Superheroes didn’t come home black and blue from some second rate villain. He didn’t even manage to arrest the guy! Scott had saved the mall, for better or worse, but Smashingo had escaped again and he wasn’t any closer to tracking him down.

Scott pulled a packet of frozen burritos out of the freezer and gingerly rested it against his chest, sucking air through his teeth at the cold. “Okay, if you insist on taking care of me, then the least I can do is let you.” The boy carefully sat back down on the couch, trying to hide his smile. Stiles didn’t just take care of everyone, it was a special occasion and he wanted to relish the attention.

Wonder Boy flashed across their television, ridiculous feathers puffed out like a preening cockatoo. Stiles maybe smirked a little.

“He’s shorter in real life,” the brunette added, just a little smug. The fact that his costume was so tight though, Stiles could appreciate that.

“Who? Oh, you mean Wonder Boy? Dude, please. He’s definitely taller than that loser Noodle Dick or whatever. Look how cool he is, he saved that whole place. I’ll bet it’s not easy being a superhero.”

“Except that one wall.” Stiles pointed out, just a hint too smug, as the mall’s ruined, pasta-covered exterior was brought into focus. He still leaned into their couch, finding Scott’s hair, and when he realized what he was doing, Stiles froze for a full five seconds to test the waters. They were sailing dangerously past the safe waters of no-homo, because Stiles would give all the homo for a chance to get it on slow-mo.

“Hey, dude, he got punched in the face, too. Just like you! HAH!” Stiles barked out, grinning from ear to ear as the news caster broke the story of the hour, and he remembered that he probably shouldn’t have been so invested about the same time that he wondered if Scott noticed the scalp rub. He jerked his hand back, humming a tune under his breath as he made his retreat, and in the kitchen, their pot boiled over.

Scott was glad that Stiles was behind him and couldn’t see how his eyes slid shut in pleasure. He fought back a shiver as his friend’s fingers scratched along his scalp. He held his breath as Stiles paused, exhaling in relief as he kept his magical long fingers tangled in his hair. “It, uh…it, what?” Words were too hard when things were distracting and even more things needed to _stop_  reacting or he wouldn’t be able to explain away.

When Stiles finally stopped, Scott whined quietly to himself. “I don’t think someone as awesome as Wonder Boy would get beaten up by some lame pasta dude. I’m sure he’s got like, amazing healing parrot powers or whatever. Or maybe he’s made out of living steel. You’ll see, he’s going to be fine and kick that guy’s ass.” He couldn’t help but leap to his own defense. “You seriously don’t think that the idiot with the noodles is the good guy here, right? He’s stealing from people!”

“Um, dude, the bad guy is always hotter. Just look at - I dunno, everything. Besides, parrot boy is literally a walking bird, dude. All the dick jokes I could make, seriously,  _that_ would be my super power.” Stiles called from the kitchen. But wouldn’t it be awesome if Scott got a crush on Smashingo? Stiles could just picture it now - but he wouldn’t, because he had to cook without overdoing their pasta. Sure, he could always make more, but that was time consuming, and Scott (and Scott’s dark perky nipples) were hungry. “Dude, I bet they have his poster online somewhere. You’ll see. Totally awesome.”

He came out not five minutes later, bragging, “Dude, you’re gonna gobble my noodles and my balls.” 

“He is not!” Stiles  _liked_  Smashingo? He thought the villain was the good guy just because he was ‘hot’? No way, Scott knew what hot really was. He had to wake up every day as Stiles shuffled around as a morning zombie, half dressed with his hair standing straight up and drool still crusted on his chin. He had to pretend their walls weren’t thin enough to know when Stiles was watching porn and try as hard as he could not to imagine what else his roommate was doing. That was hot, not some crazy robber in a dumb costume who thought it was funny to punch him and mock him for it.

“You have that loser’s poster? Dude, c’mon…you’ve lost like all your credibility now. I’ll never trust your taste again.” Scott hissed as he moved the box of frozen burritos to another bruise and scrunched grumpily down at the couch. “I’m not really that hungry anymore, sorry. Noodle dick has ruined my appetite.”

“Hey.” Stiles scowled, suddenly serious like he so rarely was. He was using the tone he normally reserved for asking his dad about his heart medication, and he dropped into the spot next to his roommate, plastering himself against Scott’s side. Their very large (and only) bowl was filled with pasta and meatballs, and it balanced precariously on Stiles’s lap. There was a reason their carpet was so gross looking.

“You keep your tits on ice, dude. I’m gonna stuff you full of food, because you’re sick and like, deranged probably.” Stiles sniffed haughtily, but he wouldn’t stop touching Scott’s arm. It wasn’t that he was super concerned or anything, it was just that he kind of was? Also, preemptively swearing revenge against Scott’s attackers was fun.

“Scott, you gotta rest and junk. Okay?” Their knees knocked together. Their pasta bowl teetered threateningly. “Also your opinion’s been dirt since before I met you. I just need 7 hours to fix it, dude.”

They would not watch the prequels.

“I’m not sick or deranged.” Scott muttered under his breath, but Stiles’s hand on his arm helped mollify his unhappiness. He’d been hoping for so long that his roommate might actually notice that when Scott said he cared, he meant he _cared_. He thought he wasn’t being subtle about how he felt, the only reason Stiles hadn’t completely shot him down was because it was less awkward to pretend he didn’t notice at all.

But Smashingo? Stiles didn’t like him, but he liked that loser? It hurt worse than a bunch to the face.

“I’m resting, I haven’t moved, dude. You’ve got to stop fussing over me, I’m totally fine.” Scott lied, leaning into the other boy. Stiles was warm against his chilled skin and Scott wrapped his arms around his roommate carefully so he didn’t spill their only bowl all over the floor. “You’re kind of a jerk and I can’t believe you like him when Wonder Boy is putting his ass on the line to help people. You’re the worst.” He took the spaghetti and set it on the coffee table before tackling Stiles and shoving the box of frozen burritos under his best friend’s shirt.

“You’re supposed to like the hero!”

Scott was a Wonder Bra fanboy? Urgh. Seriously? Did he have the Wonder Bra costume? Did he get into intense internet discussions? Did Scott write fanfic!? Stiles scowled, unhappy and bitter. First his dad was all over the feathered freak, now his best brommate? The Sheriff wouldn’t even be able to pay his medical bills without Smashingo, but every other week, Wonder Bra was consulting with BHPD. So what if Smashingo got a little carried away sometimes? His work was effective. He totally looked hotter in spandex.

Then there were burritos on his chest, and he shrieked. The angry law student above them smacked his broom on the floor. Stiles grabbed his boobs in _betrayal_

He lunged at Scott, ready to tickle him into submission. Only he stopped before he could actually reach his roommate, frozen awkwardly. Scott didn’t need any more bruises.

But just because Stiles stopped fighting didn’t mean Scott did, too.

By the end of it, their upstairs neighbor was banging on his floor again, but Stiles laughed breathlessly, squished into the couch with Scott on top of him, grinning so wide his mouth hurt. Oh no this was a problem. Scott McCall was such a problem. Stiles closed his eyes to stop himself from staring at Scott’s mouth.

He carded his fingers through Scott’s hair again, even as he started to lose feeling in his leg. Stupid Scott and his stupid heavy muscles. Stiles needed to fix his face. It was doing that thing where it went all gooey around Scott.

“I don’t need a hero who looks like a rooster, dude. You’re a thousand times better than that guy any day. You don’t need to wear a mask to do good.”

Scott laughed until his sore ribs ached and he thought he was going to throw up. Who cared if their upstairs neighbor was throwing a fit, Stiles was wiggly and giving him that stupid wide mouthed grin with that horrible way he darted his tongue between his lips. It was terrible how much he wanted to catch it and see if he could tease it into his own mouth. Or worse. So much worse, so so much better.

He lay heavily on his roommate, shamelessly snuggling down against Stiles and ignored the way his body protested even the smallest movements. Maybe his friend wasn’t too far gone? He could still convince him that Smashingo was the worst and Wonder Boy was a real hero.

“I’d look hot in a mask.” Scott said, skating dangerously close to the edge but unable to stop himself. He normally didn’t care much about ego, but somehow with Stiles, it mattered. He had to convince him that the hero was the cool one, if Stiles never liked Scott, maybe he could like Wonder Boy. It wouldn’t be the same, but it could be close enough?

He dropped his chin on Stiles’s chest and grinned, way too comfortable and way too willing to stay wrapped up in his roommate like it was totally normal. “It’s good to know there’s someone out there willing to protect people, ya know? I can just imagine it must be hard being him. You wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about your life and you’re constantly putting yourself in harm’s way for people who don’t even know you. And he doesn’t look that much like a rooster.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, dude, you’re crushing so hard on Wonder Boy!” Urgh. And that bird brain wouldn’t even be able to appreciate how lucky he was. Stiles shoved his hand into his roommate’s face, and pointedly did not pout. His best friend was in love with his arch-nemesis. Stiles watched enough television to know how Lois and Superman ended up, and now he wanted to hide under a rock. But that would mean leaving Scott alone.

“Come on, jerk, I’m hungry, and your tits are like, really perky right now. Get them off my shirt. I made you food, Scott. The least you can do is let me eat it.” Stiles prattled on, but he’d slung an arm around the other boy’s shoulders and busied himself with drawing circles on Scott’s scalp with his finger tips. The news cycle had given way to an important announcement on How to Lose Wait Fast. Maybe Smashingo could afford to be a little more careful about his next withdrawal.

Where was Wonder Boy when Scott needed him? Stiles really didn’t like that guy. He was going to glue all his feathers together.

“I’m not! I just think he’s kind of awesome and stuff, shut up.” Scott was going to have to try and convince Stiles to switch his allegiance. Tomorrow first thing, he was going to go out and find a Wonder Boy poster to put up over Stiles’s stupid Smashingo one. That would be a good first step. He poked his roommate’s side before giving up for now. This might be a long battle, but he wasn’t going to stop. Wonder Boy never surrendered when things were tough, Scott couldn’t afford to do any less.

He snagged the bowl of pasta and snuggled back down against Stiles, utterly shameless. He was hurt, it was allowed. Besides, he needed some way to warm up his tits after icing his bruises and the blanket was just too far away to reach.

“Thanks for everything, dude. You didn’t have to do so much to take care of me, it’s not like I’m broken or anything. I just…I really appreciate it. I’m really glad you’re here.”  _And I think you’re stupidly hot even if you have no good taste in anything._ “I don’t have any homework tonight, can we just chill for the rest of the night?”

“Scotty’s in luuuurve,” Stiles drawled, and hated himself a little. He hated Wonder Boy a lot, though. What if he started running around in a giant bird suit? He didn’t think anyone would notice. Maybe he could, like, get caught peeing in front of City Hall. Maybe Scott would get a real hero to latch onto. Heroes were so unreliable. Maybe Scott could just latch on to Stiles.

Stiles’s hand cured around the back of his roommate’s nape, teasing the baby hairs that grew at the base of his throat. It was like he’d been drawn by a magnet, and Scott could only be a positive point. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to say something stupid, like confess his undying love for Scott’s mouth or maybe admit that pulling Scott’s hair did things to parts of Stiles’s body that Scott could pull. Stiles should have been used to it by now. He’d been smitten ever since the loser had answered his Craigslist ad, with the promise that he did shower regularly and did not name kitchen appliances.

He grabbed a plastic fork (one of fifty that may or may not have come from the dispenser Stiles broke in the university cafeteria), because if push came to shove, stabbing himself in the thigh would knock some sense into him.

“Dude, s’nowhere else I’d rather be.”  _Goddammit the fork was supposed to stop this sort of thing!_  “Elementary marathon, dibs on all the food!”

Stiles could never know how close to the truth he really was. Crushing on your roommate wasn’t allowed, it had to be somewhere in the fine print of their lease. There was no faster way to ruin a friendship or make a living situation unbearable than to confess how much he’d like to go down on the other boy. This was perfect (besides the aching that made him feel like he was going to die) and Scott snuggled down beside his best friend, grabbing a plastic fork to defend his dinner. “Elementary marathon and you only get half or ELSE.”

Scott only poked Stiles twice.

Healing was easy and the bruises faded within a few days thanks to Scott’s mutant cockatiel constitution. He had to hide the unmarred skin under t-shirts and dodged his roommate’s worry so no one would tell how unnaturally fast he recovered. It was lucky he did, the peace never lasted long in Beacon Hills.


	2. Rise of the Poodler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new supervillain attacks Beacon Hills University with terrifying powers that leaves adorable destruction in his wake.
> 
> OR
> 
> The chapter where we say the word "poodle" 43 times.

Scott drooled into his sleeve, really trying to pay attention to 19th century British Literature and failing miserably. Anyone who scheduled classes right after lunch was truly evil, there was no way anyone could focus after eating without at least taking a nap first. His head nodded forward and he did his best to keep his eyes from crossing. An explosion rocked the campus, blast wave cracking the windows of the classroom and suddenly it was so much easier to stay awake.

His class dove to the floor, people screaming and covering their heads. A few scrambled for the door, trying to get out into the mass panic of the hallways. It was easy to slip out, tugging off his normal clothes and pulling his mask down over his face. If the school was under attack, there were too many people on campus that could get caught in the cross-fire!

___

When Stiles first realized that Scott went to the same university as him, it was terrible. He may or may not have followed his roommate around like a giant creeper. It wasn’t his fault that Scott left his schedule lying around (folded inside his backpack whatever, same thing). It wasn’t his fault that Scott was just a corridor away from his class (or five or six). It wasn’t his fault that Scott was so much more interesting that the Introduction to Fundamental Physics, and sometimes sitting in on his classes, or sitting on him, was a very appealing option. In Stiles’s defense, he didn’t immediately realize what he was doing. And when he did, he locked himself in his closet until he could find his tattered dignity.

Somewhere along the line, he learned not to be a complete loser around Scott (just a major one), and they could appreciate the benefits of going to the same school.  They both knew when they were on holiday. They could share rides. There was always someone to help steal lunch tables, and one time, Stiles saw Scott shirtless by the Rec Center pool. 

They also both knew instantly when the other was in mortal school-related peril.

“Holy shit!”

Class had never been more interesting. Stiles tripped over his own feet, elbowing someone in the face to get to the exit. He fought through the crowds, yelling Scott’s name. Stiles briefly considered turning the clothes of everyone he bumped into spaghetti. That way they’d know to get the fuck out of his way. That was when he heard it. The sound of a thousand angry barks.

Stiles turned just in time to see a stampede of terrified poodles race down the corridor. He could have died.

Scott skidded around the corner, feathers ruffled in alarm. There were too many people and he had to carefully push his way through without hurting anyone. Inhuman strength came in handy when you needed to punch through walls, but it could get him in trouble if he started knocking down classmates like dominos. The dogs were new, no one had prepared him for the poodle flood.

The hero shrieked in surprise as he was overwhelmed with curly puppies, scrambling over each other to escape the hallway. He tried to shield himself from the sharp adorable claws and marauding paw. “What the hell?” Explosions and  _poodles_? This had to be some kind of supervillain, there was no way this was a coincidence. It was too bizarrely thematic to be anything but some wannabe evil punk. Scott caught one of the whimpering poodles as the dog scrambled to escape, the poor thing almost swimming in a tank top that had gotten twisted around its neck.

Poodles in clothes. Oh hell, this was worse than he thought. Scott brought the wiggling dog up to his face and looked into disturbingly human eyes set in a very canine face and cursed quietly. He freed the tank top from around the poodle’s neck and let the poor thing dash away with the rest of its transmogrified “pack.” The hero took a moment to smooth down the crest of feathers along his scalp before gathering himself to track the poodles back to his source. Unfortunately his grand exit was ruined by a too familiar elbow to the face. “SONOFA-”

Stiles had done many awful things in his life that he was ashamed of. Kicking a poodle across the hall was not one of them. The damn thing was 50 pounds of terrible fangs and fur, and some sick, twisted monster had managed to put clothes on it and all of its brethren. He swam the canine deluge, battling against the tide in horror. Stiles could have just turned and ran. He could break through a wall and be halfway through home before animal control showed up, but Scott was in Historical Literature. The corridors to that hall bottle-necked. He’d be trapped forever in a sea of asthma-inducing flea farms.

Stiles couldn’t let him down. Someone had other plans.

“GAAAH!”

Stiles landed on his butt, staring up at a bright red and yellow and green costume with a new sort of awe. From this angle, Wonder Boy really looked taller. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t on duty. This wasn’t a threat to go to jail. Wonder Boy was a hero. This was what heroes did.

“Please! Please, you gotta help me! Scott’s in there! In the place, with the poodles - you gotta get him out of there! He’s allergic to dogs!”

Wonder Boy looked down at Stiles and tried not to gape. His mask was on, he couldn’t help his nervous fingers from tracing the edges of it just to make sure. He’d worked hard to make his disguise foolproof, but he couldn’t help but think his roommate could somehow see through it and recognize the boy behind the hero. Oh god, how would he ever explain this?

His nervousness eased a little, replaced by a flutter in his stomach. Stiles was worried about him! There was mass chaos and a herd of mutant people-poodles, and Stiles was here looking for him. If there wasn’t a responsibility to save the campus from dogification, Scott would have melted into a feathery puddle right there. The boy cleared his throat, trying to pitch his voice down to hide his real tone.

“Don’t worry, citizen. I’m here to help all the poodles, I’m sure your friend made it out safely with the rest of the students. Just evacuate the building now, I promise I’ll keep you all safe. It’s my job, you know.” He couldn’t help the little posturing at the end. If Stiles got the full hero effect, maybe he’d see how much cooler Wonder Boy really was than that stupid Smashingo. “Go on, you need to get out of here and find your friend. Leave this to me.”

_What an asshole! What did Scott see in this guy?! And citizen?!_

Stiles snarled, with a little too much teeth. “He could still be in there! He’s in the auditorium. It gets really crowded in there, please, dude! You can’t just leave him! He’s - he gets really bad asthma sometimes, and if anything happens to him, I can’t - .”

Holy shit, Stiles couldn’t remember ever being so mad and maybe, maybe a lot scared. What if Scott was torn to shreds by the rabid pack of furry monsters? What if they stole is lunch money, shoved him in a locker or sat on his face?! He’d suffocate! 

“If you’re not going to help him, then I will.” He hissed, balling his hands into fists. He’d go if he had to outrun every poodle in the building (or more likely, lock himself in a classroom). “You know what? You’re his hero. He really looks up to you.”

It was a wonder he didn’t choke on his own venom. No superhero had let him down as much since Obi Wan in the prequels. 

“He’s fine, it’s all going to be fine. You just need to get somewhere safe and trust me, I promise I’ll find your friend and protect him.” Wonder Boy’s heart sank as he tried to reassure Stiles, fingers itching to pull the mask off his face and wrap his arms around his friend. It wasn’t fair to make the other boy worry, but there wasn’t time to explain no matter how close the truth came to escaping. The hero bit down on his lip, cursing his bad luck as he gave Stiles a push down the hall. “Go! I’ll take care of this, I’m a professional.”

He’d been going for dashing, but somehow he’d just made all this worse. There was no way Stiles was ever going to think Wonder Boy was cool now. Maybe…maybe if he saved everyone, then Stiles would know!

Scott scooped up a straggling poodle and shoved it Stiles’s arms before shooing him away. Time to be awesome. With a challenging squawk, Wonder Boy swept out of the building and towards the source of the explosion. With a supervillain’s ego, there was never much of a search. They loved the attention, it wasn’t a real battle until they got a chance to monologue about their sad childhoods or the unfairness of library book fines or whatever it was that made them go evil.

“Wait!” 

With monumental effort (the poodle kept trying to claw Stiles’s eyes out), he jogged up to Wonder Boy. It never occurred to him to just put the dog down. Stiles’ face screwed up with concern, but he had his heart set on what he was about to do. He held out Scott’s inhaler, looking Wonder Boy straight in the eye as he pressed it into his hand. The spare was never hard to find. After that terrible incident when Scott first moved in, the one with the pigeon that wouldn’t stop shedding (according to Scott, at least), Stiles always made sure he had it in his bag.

“He might need this. Please make sure he gets it. His name’s Scott, and he’s really important to me. Make sure he’s okay.”

And if Wonder Boy didn’t, Smashingo would make him pay.

The poodle howled in annoyance, and that was bad. Then it started to pee, and Stiles cursed up a storm as he ran out of the building. The thing was lucky he didn’t drop it.

–

It was amazing how one little explosion could make a school look so ominous. The sparking lights and upturned tables were almost as threatening as finals week classrooms. The path of destruction got steadily worse, but the perpetrator wasn’t trying to hide.

He should have towered over Wonder Boy, a bony, bean pole of a man, who somehow made his ratty hoodie look threatening. In one hand, he held a white board marker. In the other, a poor custodian struggled for his life.

“Stay back!” He ordered. “Or I’ll-”

But it was too late. Before Wonder Boy’s eyes, the janitor screamed, louder and louder, until it warped into shrill, confused barks. Another poodle joined the pack.

His own inhaler felt impossibly heavy in his hand and he clutched at it like a shield. Wonder Boy needed to be separate from Scott, but his heart knocked hard against his ribs and it had nothing to do with the battle ahead of him. He couldn’t lose focus, people were depending on him and the watched in shock as the janitor’s shape twisted and melted into something animal, human and beast blending together in curly furred horror. The villain howled with laughter, voice too shrill and riding the edge of hysterical as he dropped the dog to the ground. The confused janitor staggered, yelping as he hit the grass and tripped out of his too-large overalls as the dog scrambled to escape.

“What the hell, man?!”

“They all thought they could push me around. Well, who’s the mutt now?” The villain cackled, eyes burning out from beneath his grimy hoodie. “They can’t push me around anymore.”

“You’ve got to stop this!” Wonder Boy always gave them a chance, appealing to whatever humanity they had left. It never seemed to work, they were too wrapped up in whatever revenge fantasies drove them to turn people into angry poofy dogs.

“BEHOLD, THE POODLER!”

Stupid villains and their stupid self-important monologues. Scott’s eyes bugged out of his head and he bit his tongue to try and keep a straight face and failed utterly. “The  _Poodler_? DUDE!”

The Poodler scowled darkly, flexing his hands as sirens screamed up to the quad, Beacon Hills’ finest pouring out onto the grass with their weapons drawn. Wonder Boy saw the danger a heartbeat too late.

“NO! Don’t get to close!”

With a discordant yowl, the police officers twisted and writhed, body armor replaced with little tail pompoms and way too much yapping.

A howl of anguish tore through the air, and the Poodler watched with glee as the dog who was once Deputy Parrish ran into a pole. Then he turned a wicked gaze towards his opponent. He was so close to victory he could taste it. Everything had happened so quickly, but the chance of a life time had fallen into his lap. 

“They’re going to the rue the day they ever crossed me.” He spat, hands balling into fists. “I’m going to take back everything they stole from me. My dignity, my self-respect, my love for dogs!”

What separated a villain from a truly super villain was their maniacal laughter. The Poodler had a little polishing to do.

“Now, Big Bird. You’re gonna be plucked.”

His face scrunched up, intense eyebrows intensifying, and when he eased up, he expected to see a ridiculous poodle in that ridiculous get up.

“Rue is a dumb word!” Scott spat back. Why couldn’t supervillains ever sound like normal people? “And so is your name.” The hero grit his teeth, hit with the Poodler’s power that tried to coax his body to twist and rebel against him. He could feel himself shifting before whatever it was that had turned him into something less than human fought back, mutated DNA reasserting itself against the villain’s abilities.

“The name is Wonder Boy!” he snarled, shaking out his feathers as the curly haired young man took a step back in surprise. “And it looks like you need to do this the hard way. Just remember, any time you’d like to go to jail, let me know and I’ll stop punching you in the face.” The boy tightened his grip on his inhaler. No one else got hurt and he could get back to Stiles to show him that Scott was fine, all thanks to Wonder Boy. “Oh, and turn everyone else back to normal. That’s not a request.”

“Fat chance, Bird Brain!” The Poodler raised his hands and howled, summoning his poodle army to attack.

The sound of thousands of tiny little paws hitting the dirt was absolutely terrifying. The hero barely had a moment to gasp before tiny fangs and poofy fur assaulted him from every angle. Some of the poodles took care of themselves, tripping on over-sized clothes and stopping to smell each other’s butts. Others were vicious. Wonder Boy was a brightly colored squeaky toy that they were going to ruin forever.

The good thing about fighting dogs that were two feet tall was that they were  _two feet tall._  Wonder Boy rose into the air, knees to his chest, and only vaguely worried about his toes. He didn’t want to put down anyone, especially civilians who were having a bad day, but he didn’t have a choice. He flew in looping circles, leading the pack on the worst sort of hunt. He only looked up when he thought he could finally subdue them. The Poodler was already gone.

Animal Control couldn’t get their fast enough.

Wonder Boy shook off the last of his furry enemies, trying hard not to hurt any unfortunate manimales but also doing his best to keep his squishy bits from sharp tiny teeth. He cursed quietly, too busy dealing with the poodley horde to stop the villain from escaping. That was two for two, he was failing at bringing in the criminals. Only a sucky hero would let his enemy escape twice in a row. At least there wasn’t anyone around to see and laugh at him.

Animal control called in backup and their backup called in backup, but eventually they managed to round up the yapping poodles. Scott didn’t stick around to watch. The Poodler’s power didn’t disappear and he had no idea if it would fade with time or if the entire BHPD was going to need pooper scoopers until the villain reversed his curse…if it could be done at all. Wonder Boy hit the ground running, shedding his costume and stuffing it away as he skidded down empty hallways and abandoned classrooms.

“Stiles? Stiles! Where are you dude, c’mon! STILES!” Oh please don’t be a poodle, please please please.

___

Someone had already made a Vine.

The world watched horrified as the brave men and women of BHPD turned into furrier - but just as brave - versions of themselves. Stiles wasn’t ashamed to say that the scream heard in that video was his. That was his dad out there, and he was regretting every decision he’d ever made. He should have been right beside him, helping him. Smashingo should have been showing that monster what a real villain could do. Nothing was holding him back now. There was only one person left to care about Stiles’ secret identity, and for all he knew, Scott could already be gone.

Wonder Boy raced through the air, carefully depositing furry little monsters, and something in Stiles’ gut eased. If he’d hurt the Sheriff, Smashingo would have smashed him too.

Stiles didn’t know what to do. A sickening sort of hopelessness settled in the pit of his stomach. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. Then a familiar voice cut through the air, and Stiles took off running.

They crashed into one another like two trains on the same track, and Stiles was falling, but he didn’t care. They fell over in a tangle of arms and legs.  He laughed until he sobbed, dragging heart-stopping, wonderful, terrifying Scott close,  and Stiles swore to himself he’d never let go.

“You’re no poodle!”

“Stiles!” Scott wrapped his arms around his best friend and squeezed tight enough to creak bones. He was here and in one piece, still wonderfully Stiles shaped like he was supposed to be. Scott ran his hands down his roommate’s body just to make sure, laughing until he hiccupped. “I was so scared for you, dude. There was an explosion and all these frickin’ poodles. Poodles!” He bumped his nose against Stiles’s cheek completely by accident, crossing all sorts of lines he’d set for himself just to make sure his best friend was okay.

“I tried to find you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The boy wheezed, holding his inhaler out with a grin. “That Wonder Boy dude said you told him to find me. I have no idea how he even knew who I was, but he made sure I had this and said you were worried about me. I thought something happened to you, Stiles. You should have hid instead of risking yourself, what would I have done if you sprouted poofs?”

Scott didn’t want to get up, perfectly happy to stay sprawled in the middle of the hallway even if his side was starting to cramp. He stroked a hand through the other boy’s hair, carefully plucking a stray feather that had fluttered out of his sleeve before anyone could notice. “I should get you somewhere safe.”

“I called! I called like fifteen  _ohmygoddude_!” Stiles gasped in one long exhale, stubbornly shoving his face into the crook of his roommate’s neck and breathing in. After he remembered cellphones existed, and running around like a headless chicken wasn’t all that effective, he called Scott twenty two times. He had mini heart attacks just about as many times.

His hand closed over Scott’s, trapping the inhaler between them, and Stiles wanted to laugh. It was the only way he to deal with the relief that washed over him. Tension bled out of him. It felt like he was laying his head on his pillow after a long day, and Scott was safe and warm and worried about  _Stiles._

Scott could teach Wonder Boy a thing or two about being a hero. Stiles hated to admit that his arch-nemesis hadn’t don’ terribly. “You’d feed me and take me for walkies,” Stiles answered belatedly, trying not to think about how easy it would be to just - lick Scott, just sneak a little taste. His fist tightened in Scott’s shirt.

“Scott, my dad…”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.” Scott couldn’t stop the laughter, curling into his best friend’s touch. Stiles would make the worst dog ever, pom poms and poofs weren’t his best look and Scott didn’t want to think about how gross it would be to clean up after him. Hell, if his roommate had been turned into a dog, Stiles probably would have licked his own balls first thing just to see if he could. He opened his mouth to share the thought, but the laughter died on his lips. “Oh.”

 _His Dad!_  Oh, how could Scott have forgotten? He knew the Sheriff from his work as Wonder Boy, they’d stood side by side on so many cases even if the officer had never been fond of the flashy vigilante. Police work should be kept to the police, not children in spandex. It was easy to forget that Stiles was his son, he’d never spent much time with the Sheriff in his alter ego and his roommate wasn’t much like his focused, hardworking father.

Or…his floofy, yapping father. “Dude, the police. They’re-, Stiles I’m sorry. We can, we should try and find him?”

“We should. I need to…”

This was dangerous. Scott was so dangerous. He was going to make Stiles do incredibly terrible things, just because he was alive and well. Stiles’ standards ahd taken a serious plummet, or maybe Scott was just  _that_  good. It was hard to say. He cupped his roommate’s cheek, holding his breath as the other boy leaned into it, almost like Scott didn’t know what he was doing. They were in the middle of a seriously messed up corridor. The remaining police were already combing through the building, but Stiles couldn’t remember being this comfortable. If there was anyone he could trust to help him with his Dad, it was Scott.

“I’m really glad you’re safe dude.” Stiles rested his forehead against Scott’s. This should have been hilarious.

“Boys? Are you all right?” Deputy Tara Graeme’s voice had Stiles jerking back, but he didn’t let go of Scott’s hand. Stiles just wanted to take him home.

It would be too easy to just lean forward, close his eyes and just go for it. He could practically feel Stiles’s breath on his lips, the warmth of his best friend’s hand against his face. Scott didn’t have to say a word, he was terrible with words anyways. Actions were more important, the gentle reassuring touches and the wet press of his mouth against Stiles, the swipe of his tongue, the way his best friend could taste, the low breathy moan that would escape before they realized how far they were going…

Tara’s voice jerked Scott out of his daydream and he reared back awkwardly, trying to hide his blush and all the traitorous thoughts that seemed written in glowing neon across his skin. He stammered an apology for all the things he didn’t do and the things he wanted to do, scrambling up to his feet.

“W-we, yeah. We’re okay, Deputy.” Scott stammered, shoving his inhaler in his pocket and pointedly not looking at Stiles. “Is it safe to leave? Is everyone okay?”

Tara’s no-nonsense smile softened at the edges. “We’re still working on it, but we should get both of you out of here and to the evacuation point while we make sure the area’s secure.”

Stiles let out a grunt-wheeze, his face splotchy like he’d just a marathon, teeth grit in concentration, just like it would be if he’d tried to turn the floor to pasta. It didn’t matter that Scott wasn’t looking at him, because Stiles wasn’t looking at him harder! Deputy Tara did not get to where she was in life by being unobservant, but this was a little too easy. She still had a job to do. She ushered the boys out of the building, while the rest of the over-worked police department continued making sure the area was clear. The SuVi Team was already going after their newest assignment, and the world kept turning. 

Stiles felt like his had stopped.

The only reason they could pick up the tawny, curly haired monstrosity with an uneven cut was because he was still wearing the Sheriff’s shirt. Stiles fell to his knees, hugging the floppy, slobbering pooch who did not understand what was going on and tried to lick his face. Also teeth. They gave him back his little hat though.

They had to preserve his dignity somehow.

Scott ushered his friend and his friend’s furry father back home, watching the poodle warily like it could turn back into a naked, angry, six foot tall police officer at any minute. Maybe it could? He leaned in close to the dog, examining him closely while Stiles was preoccupied. “I’m sorry, Sheriff.” The boy murmured, giving his once ally a scratch behind the ears. “I promise I’ll find a way to fix this, just don’t give up. And ah…try not to pee on the floor?” It didn’t hurt to ask.

“It’s going to be okay, Stiles.” Scott finished adjusting the hat on the poodle’s head poof and looked up at his friend. “There has to be a way to change him back and we’re going to find it. I know that Wonder Boy is probably hard at work trying to track down this guy and he’s going to find a way to save everyone.”  _I hope._

He pushed himself to his feet and snagged Stiles’s sleeve with his fingers, giving the fabric a tug. “We’ll find a way to help him. Your Dad’s going to be just fine.”

The Sheriff had stopped trying to chew his hat. That was some type of progress, right? They’d gotten Deputy Tara to give them a ride to the closest Walmart, after a lot of begging and pleading, and maybe Stiles had went overboard on the dog shampoo and chew toys, but he was doing his best!

“What?”

He still looked stunned when Scott stopped him, like he was slowly coming back to himself. Then Stiles just - didn’t think. He attached himself to Scott’s hip, hugging him like an angry lampray. This wasn’t how he’d expected to tell his Dad about his embarrassing crush, but hey, his Dad was more interested in his own tail than Stiles’ love life right now.

“I’m just… Really, really glad you’re okay dude.”

Wonder Boy hadn’t been able to save his Dad, but he saved Scott. Maybe this just wasn’t a job for Wonder Boy. “Thanks for letting him stay, dude. You’re allergies and - stuff.”

“Of course he can stay, he’s your Dad! I’ll just take some allergy meds and I have my inhaler, it’ll be fine.” Scott tried to reassure his friend. There were more important things to worry about than if he was going to start wheezing, like if Stiles’s Dad was going to ever stop licking his balls or if he’d ever be able to look the Sheriff in the eye again after this. There were some things that couldn’t be unseen.

This was a crisis, people were in real trouble and there was a dangerous supervillain on the loose. He should be out there, trying to hunt the Poodler down and forcing him to turn everyone back to normal before hauling his curly butt to jail, but he couldn’t leave Stiles like this. And he definitely shouldn’t be enjoying the way his best friend held on to him. Scott slung his arms around the other boy, refusing to ever let go. He could always pass it off as just being worried, that’s all it really was.

“You need to sit down for a while, let me take care of you while you…um, see if you can get your Dad to take a nap? That’s something dogs do.” He skated too close to the edge, resting his cheek against the other boy’s like he couldn’t help himself from pushing too far just to see where the boundaries were. “I’ve got you, dude.”

There was no limit. Stiles was greedy and selfish, and took a thousand times more than what was offered to him, and he couldn’t find it in himself to regret anything. Scott thought he had the choice of letting go, but Stiles would hold onto him until it tore them apart. He was having the hardest time regretting it.

“Thanks, man,” he whispered,words dancing over the shell of Scott’s ear, and he pretended not to notice the way his roommate shivered. Maybe he could just - maybe just… Plant a flag on Scott’s butt. It was a foolproof plan. The Sheriff growled at their couch.

Stiles cleared his throat, and then smacked Scott’s butt just because he could. “So um - I don’t think you ever really met my Dad, dude? I’m fifty percent sure he’s potty-trained. Right Dad?”

His Dad was not trained to bark on cue. Stiles inhaled too deeply, and never noticed how easy it was to lean on his best friend. 

“So… That jerkface ‘rabbit’ giving you trouble - do you think he’s a poodle now?” 

Scott huffed a surprised laugh, tightening his grip on Stiles’s shirt. “I hope that awful rabbit is a poodle, but I doubt he was anywhere near that mess. He’s some jackass living in a hole somewhere. You know, like rabbits do.” The thought of Smashingo running around with a poofy butt shoved in his ridiculous outfit made him grin. If anyone on earth deserved to be Poodle-fied, it was that jerk. “I can hope. It might teach that buck toothed dweeb a lesson.”

He reluctantly peeled himself off of the other boy, walking over to rub the Sheriff behind the ears until his tongue lolled out. If he was going to remember any of this, better to do his best to make a decent impression. “It’s nice to officially meet you, sir. Um, shake?” He wasn’t surprised the poodle didn’t know that trick.

“Dude, if you think you’re going to be safe here, I want to go out and see if there’s something more I can do to help. Someone needs to keep an eye on your Dad and I’ll be able to help round up strays or something. Maybe if I see that Poodle guy, I can call it in to the police. What’s left of the police.”

“I - what? Dude! It’s dangerous out there! What if you grow an extra set of legs?” Stiles asked, and in any other circumstance, this might have been incredibly cool, except he didn’t know if he could get his Dad back. He didn’t want to lose Scott either. 

But Scott helped out at the animal clinic, and he had a ton of experience with dogs. He was just such a damn  _good_  guy, and Stiles just didn’t want him to get hurt.

He scowled, preemptively annoyed by how stubborn Scott was. His roommate never backed down from a fight, especially when the helping other people was concerned, but Stiles could always handcuff him to his bed. 

That was a thought for another day.

It might not be a bad idea to get him out of the house, though. 

“Scott, I swear to god, if you’re poodle-fied, I’ll shave you myself.”

“Dude, bros don’t shave bros.” He teased, trying to lighten the mood and make Stiles smile. “That’s like all kinds of brocode violations. Plus, I’ll just shed on everything you own and you’ll never be able to tell if it’s chest hair or pubes. That’s a real threat.” The stakes were high and he was going to play dirty.

The disaster outside was waiting for a hero to come and fix it, but Scott still hesitated, not quite ready to leave. He was supposed to care more about other people than himself, but right now, it was hard to think about anything but the worry in Stiles’s golden brown eyes. “I’m gonna come back in the same shape, okay? I’m just going to stop by the clinic and see if they need extra hands with everything going on. I’ll be fine.”  _I’ll fix this, Stiles. I won’t let this guy take your Dad away from you_.

He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, agonizing his decision for a moment before throwing caution to to the wind. Stiles always did make him feel like he was leaping face first into danger and the only way to survive was to embrace it. Scott caught Stiles’s mouth with his own, pressing his lips against the other boy in a quick, crooked kiss. It lasted a fraction of a second before Scott dashed out of the apartment before he had to explain himself, Wonder Boy taking his place.

“Gross! You’re pounded.” Stiles scoffed, only to wink as big as he could manage, complete with finger bang-bangs. That was comedic genius. That was priceless brilliance. That pun would stay with Scott for the rest of his natural life.

Then Stiles’ world came crashing down, and before he could stop anything, the front door was closing shut. Stiles touched his mouth, not entirely sure it was still there. Scott kissed him. Scott  _kissed_ him! Scott kissed HIM! His heart tried to break out of his rib cage, but Stiles couldn’t stop smiling. Scott kissed him, and everything was going to be okay!

All he had to do was get his Dad to stop licking his nuts.


	3. Chapter 3

Who’d have thought the university would be even creepier when it was half destroyed, in the middle of the night? Smashingo pulled his mask down lower, his extremely dramatic black and red costume working in his favor as he crept through familiar halls. There was a lot of police tape sealing it off, and a cruiser down the street blocking off regular traffic, but he knew this place like the back of his hand. He’d been sneaking around it for years now. While the cops could do good work, they weren’t going to get very far with their best man in Stiles’s bedroom. Smashingo was certain he’d be able to find more clues once he found the site where the Poodler (seriously? The Poodler?!) had started everything. It took a villain to catch a villain. Maybe they could name the building after him once it was rebuilt.

He was so sure he was being careful. Today was full of surprises.

The school was silent and Wonder Boy had never seen it so empty before. There were always people out, even in the middle of the night. During the weekend, drunk parties spilled out across the quad and roving bands of frat brothers sang dirty songs to each other at the top of their lungs until the sun came up. During the week when most people fell into bed to steal an hour or two before morning classes, there were still small groups sitting out in the grass, discussing the philosophy of socialism and the application of development strategies in third world nations. Not to mention the people sneaking out to have sex away from roommates and dorm rooms, taking advantage of a blanket and the empty dark spaces between the buildings.

There wasn’t even a stray poodle left.

Wonder Boy suppressed a shudder. The Poodler had targeted the school for a reason. He was ranting about some sort of vendetta, that must mean he had a personal connection to the college. Maybe he’d even been a student before he’d turned into a man-dogifier. Maybe whatever had happened to him took place here, just like it did with Scott? The science lab really needed to update its safety protocols before someone actually died.

The hero crept through the halls, trying to pick up the villain’s trail or any clues he’d left behind. Maybe he’d even attacked this particular building for a reason? There had to be something he could find that could give him some sort of-

Scott bumped into another person in the darkness and shrieked at the top of his lungs, smacking at the potential enemy. Strike that, make that arch-nemesis. “Smashingo! I should have known you were involved with this.”

“AHH!”

A spray of pasta flew everywhere. Smashingo was always mortified by how much of him could do that. He fell into a fighting pose, and knocked a chair over in his haste. It was just his luck that Big Bird was always around.  He couldn’t get any breaks today.

“The only thing I’m gonna be involved in is kicking some doggy butt.” He scowled. “This is my town, Wonder Bra. You’re not gonna take it away from me, and some Chewbacca-wannabe isn’t going to either. We wouldn’t be here if you could do your job.”

It was kind of funny. Smashingo was normally so happy when his arch-nemesis couldn’t keep up. He owed the hero a thank you though, even if he’d never say it out loud. Scott came home because of him. If he could just convince Bird Boy to look the other way for a while, he could crack this case wide open.

“Look, just let the professionals handle this. You can go preen.”

“Professionals?!” Wonder Boy was outraged, picking dried bits of pasta out of his feathers with a dark scowl. “This isn’t your town, Noodles for Brains. You’re just some low level scum I haven’t scraped up off the streets yet. This is a hero’s job, go back to lurking in your sewer hole and plot your next lame-o attempt to throw lasagna at kids on a playground. That seems to be just about your speed.”

The hero pushed past his nemesis, trying to refocus his attention on tracking down this new threat. Why did he have to have such a dumb nemesis anyways? Why couldn’t he get some cool killer robot or some invading space lord trying to take over the world? Something actually serious! Focus, Scott. Don’t let this idiot get under your skin.

“This is your own chance to run away, I know you couldn’t possibly be involved in any sort of attack that was successful. You just don’t have that kind of skill. I’ll come hunt you down when I have more time and I’m not busy dealing with actual villains.”

So Smashingo shoved him right back.

“Really, cuz I call every attack against you a smashing success. Because I smash you with my success!” Smashingo felt like his fingers had been severely ruffled. He scowled behind his mask, wishing the hero a world of soggy socks and expired yogurt. What did Scott see in this guy! It just wasn’t fair. Scott should want his picture up on his wall. Or maybe Scott did. That idea was still so terrifying and new, it made his stomach do somersaults. Flappy Bird was ruining everything!

“You’re only gonna slow me down so sit back and shut up and watch the master at work, or get out of here!” They couldn’t even start punching! Smashingo had to save his strength from when he beat up the Poodle Doodle. As much as he hated to admit it, his nemesis could pack a punch, and Smashingo needed to get his tomato blaster ready.

He abruptly froze, something in the corner of the room catching his eye. It was a dog leash, and with all the mutts running around that shouldn’t have been a problem. Except the closer Bird Butt got to it, the more it glowed. Stiles very smoothly, very subtly stepped between it and his underqualified opponent, crossing his arms over his chest. He kicked it backwards with a wide sweep of his shoe, but stupid faces to draw the hero’s attention. It was a fool proof strategy.

“You know what, fine. You can have this place. I bet you won’t find anything anyway.”

“You think you’re so funny with your stupid smashing.” Scott muttered under his breath, just loudly enough for the villain to hear. How could Stiles ever think this idiot was cool? He was still shaking bits of pasta out of his hair and Smashingo hadn’t even pulled out his super lame tomato gun yet. The guy was more suitable to making dinner than ruining a city, and he was going to prove it to everyone just as soon as he turned them all back into humans. Poodles had a severe lack of appreciation for heroics unless it came with head scratches and a snack.

That actually sounded a lot like his roommate on a normal night and Scott hid a smile, trying not to let himself get distracted by the warm tingly feeling in his fingers or the way his stomach clenched nervously. Coming home tonight could mean something really terrible. Or really amazing. The sooner he could wrap up this mess, the sooner he’d find out.

The hero narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glaring at his nemesis. “What are you trying to hide there? You suck so badly at this, dude, I can tell you’ve got something behind you. Out of the way.” He shoved Smashingo aside, hoping to knock him over as he reached behind him to pick up the glowing leash. _Leash_? “What the butts?”

The gloves came off. (Because it was harder to fire with gloves; his gun had a very sensitive trigger.) A high-speed tomato splattered across Wonder Boy’s face, skin rippling on impact as gooey gunk splashed all over the unsuspecting hero. Smashingo dove, making a grab for the leash, and he took of running, panicked laughter catching in his throat. “You’ll never take me alive, loser!”

He ran through the college, and Smashingo had no way of knowing if that indignant squawk was in his head or if he’d really managed to piss off the feathered freak. His lungs were screaming for mercy, and he was almost in the clear!

Wonder Boy tackled him from above, without so much as a caw caw, motherfucker.

They tumbled. Smashingo’s jaw smacked the ground so hard, he was sure he dislodged something. They smacked each other, punching and grappling for the leash until it went flying through the air. It landed barely three feet away from them, where it hit an unfortunate ant. That ant was soon super confused about everything it ever knew. It stopped being an ant altogether.

Smashingo laid on the ground, horrified.

“Gaaaaaaah!” He knew better than to let his guard down around a villain, he was making rookie mistakes. Wonder Boy bared his teeth, showing his nemesis the meaning of the word smash with his fist. “You. Stupid. Asshole.” He only stopped when a poodle seemingly materialized out of thin air, jaw dropping.

The dog gave a whine, trying to bound away and falling flat on its face. Its body was ungainly and its brain was suddenly too big to understand. Worse, it had bones. Wonder Boy sat back, straddling the villain as he watched the poor thing stagger around the grass like it was drunk. “Holy shi-, a magical poodle making leash? Radioactive poodle rays? A poodle infection?!” Was this the source of the Poodler’s power or was it just one unfortunate side effect? Maybe if he could analyze the leash, it would at least help explain these strange powers and maybe point him towards a way to identify his foe.

“You!” Wonder Boy stuck a finger in Smashingo’s face as a warning. “Don’t you touch that leash or the…dog thing. You’re not involved in this and if you get in my way, I’ll shove uncooked spaghetti all the way up your nose and break it off.”

Smashingo bit his finger.

If Wonder Boy didn’t want that to happen, he shouldn’t have stuck his finger where it didn’t belong. Never mind that the pasta maker immediately regretted it. Seriously, it was probably up Wonder Boy’s nose at some point. That was unavoidable.

They watched as the poodle hobbled towards them in a way that couldn’t have been intentional. It was trying to do things it didn’t understand. Gravity and dumb luck took care of the rest. The poor thing collapsed between, turning large, woeful eyes up at the hero before letting out a sound like it was gargling rocks. Then it scared itself.

Stiles could honestly say he wasn’t having the worst day of them all.

He shoved his nemesis off of him, circling Wonder Boy and the wonderous leash warily, his frown visible through his mask. And he’d touched it! Did that mean he was already halfway to poodle? Smashingo shivered. That was too cruel a fate. He’d never be able to explain it to Scott. Worse, he’d never be able to kiss Scott back.

“You want that leash? It’s all yours. You’ll be doing the city a favor.” He grumbled, but it sounded a little too much like a whine.

Scott yelped, cradling his finger against his chest in outrage. Oh god, he was going to get some kind of horrible spaghetti disease, he could practically feel his bones turning into noodles. “You’re so gross! I swear if you infected me with something, I’m going to serve you up with a side of garlic bread.” The hero restrained himself from smacking Smashingo in his stupid face just to make a point. He wasn’t against using violence if he had to, but beating up an enemy when they weren’t actually in battle just seemed cheap.

“Of course I’ll be doing the city a favor, someone needs to fix this and it’s clearly not you. What would a villain know about saving anyone, I doubt you’ve ever thought about anyone else besides yourself in your entire life. Why would you care about the city now? Go run away, it’s the only thing you’re good at.”

He didn’t mean to sound as bitter as he was, but there was too much at stake to let himself get distracted by someone who just wanted to be a petty annoyance. Stiles’s Dad was in trouble and he was just one innocent caught in the cross-fire. They were all depending on him. Wonder Boy knelt by the stricken poodle, scratching the dog behind the ears until it stopped whimpering and cautiously nuzzled the hero’s wrist. “You’re okay, buddy. We’ll figure out a way to help, I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

“Fix this?! If you just did your job the first time around, we wouldn’t be here!” Smashingo through back, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Wonder Boy had such fucking nerve. The villain did things, things that toed the line a whole lot, but he didn’t hurt people directly, and he didn’t turn anyone into noodles. Or angry yipping, shedding dogs.

This was his city, too. Smashingo was just selfish with how he used it. Very much so. The list of people whose concerns surpassed his own was pretty short. Right now, there were only two people on it.

He was not above kicking Wonder Boy when his back was turned, but that weirdo magic dog kept making grunting noises when the hero scratched him. Smashingo had a heart, dammit.

“Face it, “hero.” You’re not cut out for this, and if you turn into a poodle, I’ll take you to the pound myself.” Smashingo made sure his nemesis saw the air quotes. There was no time for pleasantries.

“My job?” Wonder Boy was furious and the crest of feathers along his head spiked. He ran an irritated hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back and glared daggers at the villain. “At least I’m trying to do something! Someone has to be the one who uses their power for good, dude. There’s people out there who need help and instead of just using what you’ve got to be a criminal because you’re selfish. You make it that much harder for everyone else because you couldn’t possibly care about anyone else.”

The Poodle-Ant whimpered fearfully and Wonder Boy murmured quietly to the creature until it calmed. He couldn’t just leave it here, that would be cruel. Would Stiles care if he brought home another friend to keep the Sheriff company? He picked the glowing leash up carefully, waiting to see if he would react and breathing a sigh of relief when nothing happened. Whatever it was that gave the thing its power, he was immune just like he was immune to the Poodler himself.

“You could help, you know.” He said, refusing to look at his nemesis. “You could be better than this.”

 _This is better than you could ever be_ , Smashingo almost said, but something made him hold his tongue. Maybe it was the way the poodle monster had started drooling on Wonder Boy’s knee, or the quiet way the hero offered his help. It reminded Sitiles of someone he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about all day. Also, the dude touched the magic leash and wasn’t any fluffier than normal.

He’d make perfect cannon fodder if it came down to that.

Smashingo hesitated a moment, scuffing his heel on the ground before he mumbled, “Saw you on the news, hero.” Arms crossed over his chest, trying to appear more imposing and not be there at all at the same time, he added, “You fought this guy. What was he like? There can’t be that many places a bunch of barking mutts wouldn’t be noticed in town.”

That finally made Wonder Boy look up, smile hovering across his lips. He hadn’t really thought there was anything heroic in his arch-nemesis, but Smashingo hadn’t attacked him and maybe they could find a way to make this work. At least until the Poodler was brought to justice. The enemy of my enemy, and all that.

“I don’t know, he just seemed angry like the world owed him one. He didn’t look that old, I thought he might be a student or a former student of the college. I know that the security here isn’t the best and sometimes there’s accidents.” He said dryly, trying to keep the trace of bitterness from his voice. “If he was hurt here or if he feels like someone owes him, then maybe we can figure out who he is.”

Wonder Boy looked down at the glowing leash in his hand, just holding the thing made him feel nervous. It almost pulsed in time with his heart beat and-, wait a second. It responded to him? Was that why he was immune to the Poodler’s power? They might come from the same source! He sat back on his heels with a grin, holding the leash out to Smashingo like a trophy. “I have an idea! I think I know where this came from, or maybe where he came from. We need to check the science building.”

“What.” Smashingo said, like a statement, not a question.

But seriously, what?!

He was in the middle of preparing a well-thought out and very impressive speech about researching freak poodle accidents involving college-age men with no sense of pride. He was about to dazzle the pants off of Wonder Boy. Why the butts were they heading to the science building?

“What’s wrong with the science building?” Smashingo demanded, and for a moment, he was mostly Stiles, because this was his school, and he had class every Monday and Wednesday there. Was he absorbing poodle radiation? Poodlation? Was he going to spew noodles and poodles for the rest of his life!? If this was a trap, it was the worst one ever. It might not have been too late to drop all of his classes.

Wonder Boy took the leash, so Smashingo dropped down to scoop up the poodle. It immediately started fussing, and there had already been too much dog pee on him today. More importantly, why did Wonder Boy know so much about this school?

“I wouldn’t expect you to know, but there’s something weird going on at this school. I’ve, ah, been investigating it for the past few months. I don’t know who’s behind it, but there’s some strange experiments going on after hours in the science building and it’s not always safe.” That was an understatement. He’d just been a lowly lab assistant taking care of the animals at night to earn a few extra bucks for school. Living on his own and paying his tuition himself didn’t leave a lot of time for a job and he did everything he could to make sure his mom could save as much as possible.

It had all gone well until that night.

He couldn’t remember much about what had happened. He was feeding the animals when he’d heard a noise from the restricted lab. Even with his student ID card, he’d never been able to get access or could find out exactly who was running experiments inside. It must have been some sort of grant the school was running, a hush hush study for some client offering the school funding for their results. There’d been a flash of light and the animals had panicked, one particularly upset cockatiel chomping down on his finger. When he’d woken up, he’d been covered in feathers and half out of his mind in panic. Thankfully he’d learned to control his new powers, but he’d never been able to find an answer to what had happened. Could the Poodler have been in the same accident?

Smashingo gasped, and kind of hated himself for it. He was showing weakness around the enemy, but there was something seriously messed up about this school! It was just so organized and shit. There were too many books and people working. It was a terrible place, really. He should have seen through it immediately.

Except nothing had prepared him for what Wonder Boy had found. Smashingo didn’t think anything on earth could have!

“Are you serious?” He dared, eyes bugging out of his mask. “What type of strange experiments? Are we talking Frankenstein’s monster weird or let’s splice ebola and the common cold together? What if they created the Poodler?”

It was the second time in five minutes that Smashingo was left gasping in shock, but when he turned to face his arch-nemesis, they burst into giggles at the same time. The Poodler, and he thought Wonder Boy was bad. “Come on, we gotta check it out - you bring the dog.”

Wonder Boy said, trying to catch his breath. He wasn’t supposed to be having a giggling fit with his archest of nemeses, they were supposed to be fighting and then he’d obviously drag the villain’s noodley butt to jail. But Poodler, really? Even Smashingo was a better name than that, and it was still pretty lame. He finally managed to stop, wiping the tears away from under his mask as he gathered the whimpering poodle up in his arms.

“There’s a lab I haven’t been able to get into. Whatever they’re working on, it’s dangerous.” He had to be careful, he couldn’t act too familiar with the labs or he’d give too much away. He probably already had, this was dangerous water with his greatest enemy and he couldn’t give up too much information. If his secret identity was exposed, then everyone he cared about would be at risk, including his mom and Stiles.

He crept through the building, silent except for the squeak of his shoes against the floor and the quiet panting of the puppy in his arms. The lights were off and most of the animals rustled in their habitats or slept, oblivious to the intruders. There was a kennel here, he remembered seeing something. Most of the labs only used small animals like mice and rats (or birds), but the psychology class had been running some experiments on behavior training for therapy animals. Maybe they had…bingo! “In here.” Wonder Boy hissed, gesturing wildly.

Smashingo followed with a creeping sort of horror. They were going to find the Hounds of Baskerville or a genetically modified Chewbacca and everything would make sense (pffft). He steeled himself for a fight, tomato gun cocked and ready, while their passenger poodle stared off into space, like it had never experienced anything so amazing, and had simply given up on life. They couldn’t just leave it at the school. People cut dogs open for science-y stuff all the time.

The lights flickered on. There was nothing there.

But there had been. Smashingo’s shoulders slumped as he looked around the room, checking where the paint on the walls discolored, and how dust settled around equipment that was no longer there. Someone had moved things, a lot of things. Now Smashingo wondered if they were possibly poodle-y things. Wonder Boy looked dejected, and that didn’t fill him with as much smug satisfaction as it normally did.

“I’ll look into who had this room last. You can figure out where all the stuff went,” he started at length, only to realize that meant possibly meeting up with his nemesis again. The Poodler was worth it. He thought about his Dad, locked in a bathroom covered in newspaper.

The Poodler was definitely worth it.

Wonder Boy shook his head vehemently. “No deal, I’m going to take care of this. You’ve done enough damage as it is tonight, I don’t need you mucking around in my investigation. Leave this to the real heroes.” It couldn’t be impossible to track who was working in this lab, the science department had to have records of it. He could stop by in the morning and ask a few innocent questions, they knew he was the boy who took care of the animals. It wouldn’t look that suspicious if he went to check on them.

The hero studied his enemy for a moment, trying to find the human beneath the stupid costume and sarcastic smirk. “Thank you for your help though. If you ever decide you want to stop being such a jerk all the time, maybe I could use a sidekick.” He should have said something more inspirational, but Wonder Boy couldn’t help himself from getting one last dig in. His jaw might have healed, but he could still feel the phantom ache along the bone.

“I’m taking this with me.” He tucked the leash away. “It’s too dangerous to leave out here. I’m taking this little guy too, he needs to find somewhere safe to be.” This place was giving him the creeps and he suppressed a shiver. Something bad had happened here and the Poodler was at the heart of it.

“Excuse me?” Smashingo kind of wanted to shake him. His face scrunched up in disbelief, and his mask moved with it. “I found that leash! You were just getting in my way. I can help you!”

He back-tracked as quickly as he could. This was supposed to be a blessing. He wasn’t supposed to want to work with his arch-nemesis, but Wonder Boy was taking all their evidence, their strongest lead, and his nifty anti-poodle immunity!

He cut Wonder Boy off, crossing his arms across his chest like the world’s thinnest roadblock. “Look here, hero, if you wanna save people, then you’re going to need all the help you can get. This guy’s a nut job. Seriously, what sane person goes by the Poodler? I can help! I’m the perfect help!”

He probably wasn’t, but if Smashingo was good enough to lie about it, then Wonder Boy could return the favor and believe him. His hands balled into fists, shoulders hunching in on himself, and he hated the way his voice cracked. “Please… I need to get this guy. Someone really important to me is in trouble, and I need… I meant it okay? This is my town, too.”

Not even the mask could hide the shock on Wonder Boy’s face and he gaped at his nemesis for a moment before pulling himself together. Smashingo actually cared about someone? Someone who was important enough that he wanted to help the city like he wasn’t a self-centered criminal? The hero wavered, logic and heart warring for supremacy before he finally nodded. “Okay, we do this together then until the Poodler is caught and everyone’s turned back to normal. Truce?”

He stuck out his hand and waited for Smashingo to shake, cementing their deal. Stranger things had happened and if his enemy wanted to try his hand at being a hero, Wonder Boy could show him the way. “Meet me at the clock tower in the middle of campus tomorrow night at 9:00. I’ll have answers then and we’ll hunt this guy down.”

The young man scooped the poodle puppy up in his arms and climbed out the window, leaping out into the darkness. The ant-dog howled as he disappeared up into the sky.

That same howl greeted Stiles when he finally slogged back to his apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

Smashingo wasn’t fidgeting. He was just moving from side to side and wringing his hands, but only a little! He was as cool as a refrigerated cucumber, and nothing was going to shak- “Oh thank god!”

It came out too quickly for him to take back, so he pursed his lips and pretended to be super focused on Bird Brain’s extended palm. There could have been a buzzer attached to it or something. It could have been an invisible buzzer. But as he shook his arch-nemesis’s hand, Smashingo wondered if it was normal to feel this much relief. It was good to know he wasn’t alone anymore.

He was still careful going home, taking a winding path before he felt safe enough to remove his costume. When he tip-toed through the front door, he was cranky, tired, and his Dad was howling in the bathroom,  _urgh._ Stiles seriously hoped Scott ‘forgot’ to brush his teeth before bed again. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to explain his Dad being cooped up like that in the dark. A late-night pizza run just wouldn’t cut it, but what Stiles had to do was important. He wondered if Scott would think everything Smashingo did was important, and felt like dirt.

It got even worse when he decided it was safer to keep his dad under bathroom arrest. If he cured him, that would totally make up for it though, right?

His bedroom door was covered with a large glow-in-the-dark skull, the sort Scott always respected as Stiles’ ‘Do Not Enter: Fap Ahead’ warning. There had been enough incidents to teach him to respect it. Thank God for that; his life was complicated enough without needing to explain what he did in the middle of the night. Stiles dragged himself to his bed and shuffled into pajamas like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The world wasn’t, not exactly, but it sure felt like the whole town’s was. It sure felt like his dad’s was. And his sheets were cold.

When the door to Scott’s bedroom squeaked open and Stiles tiptoed into his best friend’s bed, he forgot to feel guilty. He slung an arm a round Scott’s waist, and it kind of felt like it belonged there. It kind of felt like Stiles should never let go.

Scott held his breath as Stiles crept into the apartment, thanking every supernatural deity he could think of that his roommate hadn’t been home when he snuck inside. He didn’t know where Stiles had gone, but at least Scott didn’t have to come up with another awful excuse to explain his absence or why he’d brought an extra poodle home with him. He didn’t breathe again until he heard the sound of Stiles’s door click closed.

That was close! He was going to have to be more careful, he couldn’t risk Stiles finding out about any of this. With his Dad in trouble, he was too likely to run right into trouble and Scott couldn’t lose him too. The boy tensed as the floor outside his bedroom door creaked and the door swung open, staying absolutely still as his roommate climbed into bed with him.  _Oh my god_.

Feigning a yawn, Scott rolled over and blinked sleepily at the other shape in the darkness. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. Some things were better left unsaid. He pulled Stiles into his arms, resting his forehead against his best friend and enjoying the way the other boy’s warmth felt along his skin. This was a big deal, right? It had to be a big deal. Stiles didn’t seem upset that Scott had stolen a kiss and run away like a coward and the world felt a little less overwhelming when they could wrap the darkness around themselves like a blanket.

The Poodler might have a ridiculous name and a stupid power, but there were real lives at stake and people needed real help. Stiles’s Dad was the only family his friend had and if Scott failed, he could lose the Sheriff forever. The bed bounced as a small four footed addition joined the cuddling boys, sticking its wet nose between them.

Stiles was going to have a heart attack. Cause of death was going to be Scott McCall and the potential of unrealized butt stuff. He shut his eyes tight, wrinkling his nose like he could pretend that he didn’t intentionally sneak into his best friend’s room. Dammit, he was killing his chances for a second smooch. And butt stuff!

Then Scott turned into him, and everything was so warm. Stiles inched closer. Anything less would have been a mistake. Cautiously, he reached up, combing his fingers through his roommate’s hair. He’d lost track of how many times he’d odne that before, but this time felt like it counted for so much more.

“Room was. Bed. Um…” Stiles licked his lips, endlessly fascinated by the way Scott would squirm until he could fit his arm between them, so solid against Stiles’ frame. He shoved Scott’s face into his neck, tucking him under his chin. It was easier to talk to his ear. “Staying here tonight… Kay? Really hope you’re still asleep, man.”

“Not asleep.” Scott mumbled, sliding his arms beneath the worn, soft fabric of his roommate’s ratty t-shirt. He loved the way Stiles’s skin felt against his rough fingers, there was a hidden steel to his best friend between all the pointy bits. He bit back a moan, Stiles’s fingers sending electric shivers down the back of his spine as they carded through his hair and Scott felt utterly boneless. “You can stay here tonight if you want. Sleep better anyways.”

He wasn’t sure that was entirely the truth, anxiety pulsed through him with every frantic heartbeat. So much could go wrong. What he he snored? What if he drooled? What if he fell asleep and woke up with an awkward boner he couldn’t explain away? The lines had blurred and Scott wasn’t sure what the rules were anymore. At least when he’d been too afraid to cross them, he could tell where the danger lay. Now everything was too warm, too comfortable, entirely too  _easy_  and Scott couldn’t tell if he was going to make a mistake. 

“Stay.” That felt right, even if it didn’t feel safe. He could live with that. Scott brushed his lips across Stiles’s clavicle just because he could and smiled. 

His dad was a poodle. He’d faced down a radioactive leash, and made a deal with the devil known as Wonder Boy. Stiles could do this. Stiles could do this!

His heart ran into his ribcage at full force, and for a moment, he was sure he was going to explode. But he did it. Trembling hands cupped Scott’s cheek, calloused fingers skittering over the curve of his smile, coaxing him to look at Stiles. This was the worst idea he’d ever had. This was the best idea he’d ever had. He was nervous, he was so nervous, and scared enough to pass out, but Stiles didn’t regret this for an instant.

Scott looked so pretty. Stiles didn’t even know if he was allowed to think that, but he did. He thought it so hard. Then he pressed their lips together, chaste and clumsy, and Stiles couldn’t stop smiling.

“Just taking back what you stole from me.”

And hot damn, he was smooth!

Scott snorted, ruining the moment and burying his face in his friend’s chest to laugh. Of all the things that could go wrong, here was something that unexpectedly went right. He was warm down to his toes, every part of him tingling like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket and he could feel the hair standing up on his arms. The boy quieted, wiping his tears on Stiles’s t-shirt and pulled the comforter up higher around them to cocoon them together. A best friend burrito.

“I’m glad you’re here.” With how crazy his life had become over the last few months, it was nice to have someone normal and solid to hold him steady.  _Just trust me, Stiles. I promise I’ll take care of us and I’ll out everything right again. I’ll figure this out no matter what_. It was worth it, even if he had to work with his arch-nemesis.

The boy snuggled down into Stiles’s arms, a shameless heat thief and made himself at home. One he didn’t plan on leaving.

Scott was going to be the reason Stiles said something incredibly dangerous, something like  _I don’t wanna be anywhere you’re not._ Or maybe,  _I don’t know what I would do without you. I never want to let you go. You’re the only friend I’ve ever had who really knew me, and I’m scared of losing you. I’m going to ruin one who hurt you._  Nevers and forevers were dangerous, but around Scott, Stiles couldn’t think in any other terms.

“Not going anywhere, Scotty.”

Stiles was too honest, and too earnest. It felt like he was lying, but he needed Scott to believe him, now more than ever. Scott always believed him. Some day, Stiles might regret taking advantage of that.

Thankfully the school was closed for poodle repair tomorrow.

Scott woke up with an unfamiliar weight wrapped around his back like a drooling lamprey. It took a few minutes before memory came filtering back and the boy smiled. He was surprised he’d slept so well, all the nervousness from the night before and the added anxiety from the Poodler seemed so distant when Stiles breathed heavily against his neck.

He wiggled carefully, trying to turn to see his roommate without waking the other boy up. Stiles looked almost sweet like this, open mouthed and almost innocent. Almost. If Scott wasn’t so sure he’d die from morning breath, he’d lean over and kiss him awake. Oh hell, what was a little morning breath?

He never got the chance, hesitating too long to make up his mind. With a loud yip, the small poodle puppy lept on the bed and bounced excitedly on the two boys. Scott flailed in surprise as he was attacked by a slobbery tongue that wasn’t the one he’d been hoping for.

Stiles fell off the bed. The jerk-puppy wasn’t even concerned!

He flailed dramatically, screaming the whole way down, and taking Scott’s bedside lamp and about five books with him. They attacked his face and nothing was right with the world. “DAD!”

Leave it to his detective father to figure out how to open the bathroom door. He was some sort of magical pooping thing, but that wasn’t his Dad. Stiles gripped Scott’s work book. That was most definitely  _not_  his Dad!

“Where’d you get that?” 

Stiles choked on his morning breath, but his thoughts ground to a halt, with shrieking breaks and explosions. There was no way he’d forget that dog. It looked so miserable last night, and drooled over Wonder Boy’s arm. Wonder Boy! Wonder Boy had come by here!? Wonder Boy knew about Scott?! About Stiles?!

No, he couldn’t have known about his secret identity or he’d already be in jail, but that was the same dog. It tripped over its forepaws and splattered its face on Scott’s chest, growl-whining helplessly before going for another round of scratches. Maybe Wonder Boy was an asshole who just left it to die on the streets, and didn’t want to show Stiles he was a terrible asshole?

Scott froze, concern etched in every line of his body until he was sure Stiles was alright. He couldn’t laugh until he was sure his roommate wasn’t hurt, but then all bets were off. He rolled flat on his back and cackled, the puppy smothering him in love. “Dude, try not to break  _everything_  I own! Or yourself, I guess. Try not to break yourself either.”

He cuddled the dog who yapped happily, curling itself on Scott like he owned the boy and demanding more attention. Scott just laughed and surrendered, rubbing the puppy until the tiny poodle flopped back on the sheets in delight, tail thumping hard against the mattress. “Him? This isn’t your Dad, dude, it’s my new little buddy. A friend of mine dropped him off last night and I couldn’t really say no. He’s too cute, just look at this little face.” He smooshed the dog’s muzzle and put on his best sad puppy face to match.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but you weren’t here and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Is it okay? You’re not mad, are you? I’ll look after him, my allergies haven’t been bothering me for the last few months and it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I- your asthma!” Stiles protested, since he couldn’t exactly tell Scott that he was fraternizing with the enemy. He tried not to look too closely at them both. That was a potent power Scott wielded. Stiles realized belatedly that he would give his roommate just about anything he asked for, when he looked like that.

“What do you mean a friend?” He asked, trying to sound completely casual, and Stiles was sure he mostly did. He squinted up at the poodle like it could tell him all its terrible secrets, and got a face full of slobber for his trouble. Stiles was still holding Scott’s lamp. “Dude, who drops puppies off in the middle of the night? That’s totally shady. We don’t even know who this is? What if this is like, the mayor or something? Oh no. Was the mayor poodle-fied?”

The ant-poodle flopped on its side and didn’t move to get up, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Wonder Boy was a monster for abandoning it.

A room away, the former sheriff howled, and Stiles went pink. Ducking his head, Stiles decided, “Take Dad for a walk, too, and you can keep him.”

“It’s not the mayor, it’s just a puppy.” Scott cooed at the tiny animal, scratching its stomach until it stretched limply out on the bed. “It doesn’t have anywhere else to go and with everyone poodlefied or whatever, there wasn’t anywhere else to take it. My friend thought I’d be able to give it a place to stay because I work with animals and you don’t have to worry. I haven’t had an asthma attack in months and my allergies haven’t caused me any problem.” Mostly because I’m not so human anymore, but details.

He gave Stiles his best innocent smile, hoping his roommate was going to buy the excuse. He’d been telling so many lately that he was surprised Stiles believed any word out of his mouth. The grin only widened as his friend gave up and Scott leaned as far as he could over the edge of the bed to drop a kiss to the side of Stiles’s face. “Thanks, dude! Start thinking of a name for him, I’ll take them both out for a walk. Oh, and if you made waffles, you’d be my favorite person on earth?” If he was going to have to clean up after Stiles’s Dad, breakfast was the least Stiles could do to thank him.

“How can you know that, dude? What friend is this? I know all your friends,” Stiles accused, and he thought he did a phenomenal job at not sounding creepy at all. He scrambled onto the bed only to find his spot already occupied by a blissed out puppy, complete with puppy grunts and dazed eye rolling. He was too busy being jealous that it took him a moment to realize that Scott had kissed him - again! In the morning! When Stiles was totally awake to not have dreamed it. He flushed  _maroon_.

“Don’t take too long. I might eat all the waffles.” Stiles gave fair warning. He couldn’t be held accountable for his actions. It was early and he was hungry and probably suffering from multiple mini-heart attacks. He needed his syrup covered carbs. He needed his syrup covered carbs on Scott’s belly oh god.

He couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes, leaning in to kiss the corner of Scott’s smile. It was shy and lame, and morning breath was everywhere, but it made Stiles’ toes curl in giddy pleasure. Wonder Boy ruined everything. 

“Dude… This friend?”

Scott could get used to these casual kisses and sleeping together thing. Actually, he could get used to a whole lot more and he ducked his head away so Stiles wouldn’t see the way his cheeks darkened. It was only fair that Stiles was the same color, though the splotchy red stood out better on his roommate’s pale cheeks.  This was good, this was amazing.

“You don’t know all my friends, bro.” He said breezily, scooping the little puppy up into his hands. “I have friends all over the place. Lots of friends!” That was a complete lie, but he was on a roll. The most important part about lying was to never show any hesitation. “He’s a really good guy who thought I’d be able to help. You’d like him if you ever met him. He’s, uh…he stops by sometimes but I guess you haven’t run into each other yet. I’ll definitely introduce you next time I see him.”

Nailed it!

“Now I’m going to go watch your Dad do unspeakable things, so breakfast is a fair trade. I’ll be back in a few.” Scott tugged on a pair of old sweats and let the Sheriff out of the bathroom, corralling both dogs and finding a few makeshift leashes to take them both out for a run.

He really hoped the Sheriff wasn’t going to remember any of this.

The worst part was that Stiles didn’t know what freaked him out the most, the fact that Scott had other friends (friends who were not Stiles even!), or the fact that Stiles didn’t know who these friends were. He hadn’t even started thinking about Wonder Boy being in their apartment. No where was safe! The hero always got the girl, and even if Scott wasn’t super girly, the hero was going to snipe him up and and - and now Stiles knew which freaked him out the most. Fun stuff.

Meanwhile, Scott’s horribly, furry cute  _bribe_  lounged in Scott’s arms like it belonged there. It had no idea it was involved in a terrible plot to steal Stiles’ best friend with bronefits away. Then Scott yanked on a pair of pants, and Stiles never even got to appreciate the view.

“I-” Stiles watched the door close behind Scott with endless yearning. Lois Lane never got with Lex Luthor (and Stiles didn’t want to go bald). It looked like Stiles had won the battle, but he was losing the war - for Scott’s heart.

There were going to be waffles waiting for Scott when he got back, but there was also going to be bacon. The good kind.

A run didn’t do much to clear Scott’s head and he walked that unknown and tenuous line when he came home, dogs panting from exertion. He wasn’t sure if he should treat Stiles the way he always had or if he should kiss him hello when he found his roommate in the kitchen. Was it okay to push so far or should he wait? They hadn’t talked about this whatever-it-was and the ground beneath his feet felt so unstable. There were too many questions and they teetered on the edge of friends and friends with something more, but where did the line lay now?

At least breakfast was good.

Afterwards, he took full advantage of their unexpected day off and curled on the couch with his laptop with mumbled “schoolwork” to cover for him. Getting into the lab roster wasn’t hard, especially since he technically worked as a student employee. One name stood out and he tucked it away just in case: _Isaac Lahey_. All his hard work didn’t stop Scott from curling closer to his roommate or fighting for space on the cushions. It certainly didn’t stop Stiles from launching an attack with a pillow or Scott from giving a war whoop and pouncing on his friend with deadly accurate tickles. It was a shame to have to leave, but as the day grew later, Scott had to keep his meeting with Smashingo.

“Hey, so uh…I have to run out for a couple of hours. I’ll be back soon, I promise. It’s just a little…I forgot I have to see the doctor. You know I’m terrible at being places on time.”

While Scott was fretting, Stiles put on his big boy pants, pushed him against the fridge and kind of knocked their heads together, because kissing someone was kind of complicated? They worked it out. There was a lot of giggling, and sort of careful touching, and shameless groping, but they got the kissing part down pretty well. Stiles would demand practice. So much practice. (Preferably when his Dad wasn’t around, and a poodle.)

They threw pieces of toast at each other that never seemed to reach the ground, fingers covered with sticky sweet syrup and cholesterol skyrocketing. Their guests begged for attention almost as much as Stiles did, and when all was said and done, everyone was tuckered out and fuzzy on the couch. Stiles made sympathetic noises when Scott said he had to do homework, sticking his cold toes under his best friend’s shirt. He promised to alert Scott once he started watching porn.

First he had to look up the city’s layout, and root out where a megalomaniac could hide a bajillion poodles.

He just had to say goodbye to Scott. Flufferbutt (Working Title) slept at his ankle, and his Dad had taken over the only other chair in the room. Stiles just needed an excuse. Maybe groceries? No way he had to go to the gym. Maybe… A dentist appointment. Then Scott blew him away.

“WHAT?!”

Flufferbutt yelped, flailing off of Stiles, but new concern twisted his features. He knew this was a bad idea! “Is it your asthma dude? Dude! Do I need to give you mouth to mouth!?”

Stiles’s worry was adorable and Scott smiled, reaching out to cup his friend’s jaw to try and reassure him. “Stop freaking out, dude! I’m fine, everything’s fine. I haven’t had an asthma attack in months, I’ve been careful and my allergies haven’t bothered me at all. It’s just a…thing. I just forgot it was a thing, so I have to go take care of it.”

He squinted at his roommates disbelieving face and suddenly, all his excuses evaporated and Scott grasped for words. It wasn’t fair, Stiles didn’t get to look at him that way when he was worried and his eyes were so bright and his lips were still so shiny slick from where the boy had darted his tongue across them. The thought of leaving and having to deal with Smashingo when he could stay at home at make out with his best friend was the worst and just for a moment, Scott let himself be selfish. The young man leaned over and caught Stiles’s mouth with his own, taking a swipe with his own tongue before finding the willpower to tear himself away.

“I, uh.” He had to stop and clear his throat to keep it from breaking like a young teen. “It’s not terrible, it’s just butt stuff. I mean, the doctor thing. The, um, the thing with the-, they’re just checking things.”  _OH MY GOD, SCOTT STOP TALKING._  His brain blank and his mouth just wouldn’t stop moving.

Oh no this was going to be a problem. Scott could tell him that he ate babies for breakfast and Stiles would keep kissing him. It wasn’t fair. Someone had taught Scott how to be really really good with his mouth, and Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to shake them or thank them for all the benefits he was reaping. He was going to reap them all night long once he was doine punching the poodler in the face.  _Wait._

_“_ They’re going to put stuff in it?!” Stiles jaw clamped shut so tightly, he swore it dislocated. All at once there was too much color in his cheeks, and all of it splotchy and uneven. It was totally wrong to be annoyed that he wasn’t getting to touch Scott’s butt. Totally. Looking a round the room like his Dad would de-poodlefy just to scold him, Stiles hissed, “Is there something wrong with it?”

Was that something Scott would tell him on the first date? Was that something he was allowed to ask?! Holy butts, they hadn’t even had a first date, oh no. Did Scott want to go on a date with him?! Stiles wanted to take him on so many dates.

“What?!” Scott choked on his tongue, doing his best Stiles impression and flailing off the couch. Abort abort! This whole thing was going down in flames. “No! I mean sort of. Not like that, it’s nothing like that. My butt’s fine, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. With _me_. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just a checkup, just a normal ordinary checkup that has nothing to do with my butt.”

Scott was never going to speak again. There was something literally wrong with his mouth, it just kept going even though he was screaming in his head. This was why he never went on any dates.

To save himself, he scooped up the little poodle puppy who yipped in surprise and dumped the animal on Stiles’s lap. “You’ll have to take care of him while I’m gone. He’s really little, so you’ll have to watch him carefully so he doesn’t cause any trouble or bother your Dad.” Being a superhero was sometimes the worst. He was going to meet up with his nemesis, track down this Isaac guy, find the Poodler, and be back by the time Stiles hopefully forgot he’d ever mentioned butt stuff.

“I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, stop making that face.”

“What face? I’m not making a face. Your face is a face.” Fartfritter tripped over himself, and Stiles scooped him up just in time, squeezing the poodle maybe a little too tightly. Stiles scratched his head intently, like he had any hope of disguising how obsessively he thought about Scott’s butt. It was a super awesome butt. There was no hope for him.

“Don’t do anything too bad to your butt, dude. Not before I get to.” The joke died on his tongue, falling into a broken unhappy mess of awkwardness. And Stiles waved nervously at Scott’s retreating back. Then he bent over and yelled into  the couch’s arm.

“That was totally smooth, right?”

Fleabucket whined.

“Totally smooth.”

Stiles lined their apartment with newspaper. All he had to do was beat Scott home to clean up.

How long did having a colonoscopy take anyway?

“What?” Wonder Boy’s voice broke, the world opening up beneath his feet to swallow him whole. He was sure he choked on his tongue, his ability to speak stolen away in one gut wrenching punch.  _How did Smashingo know his name_?! He’d been so careful, he’d always been so careful! If his arch-nemesis could figure out who he was, then everyone he cared about would be at risk. He wouldn’t put it past this psychopath to go after his friends and his family just to make his noodley point.

The hero swallowed hard, trying to force his terror back down and stay in control. His fist closed around Smashingo’s shoulder, shoving the other man back. “How the hell do you know who he is?  _You_  stay away from Scott McCall, I’d never hurt anyone but I wouldn’t put it past you to put an innocent in harm’s way. He’s just a kid, have you been stalking him? Following me?” Gritting his teeth, Wonder Boy kept himself from shaking his nemesis until the answers spilled out.

This had always been a possibility, but faced with the reality of his worlds colliding, Wonder Boy didn’t know what to do. There was too much to lose. If Smashingo had found him, then he must have found Stiles too. Had he found his mom? The Sheriff (when he wasn’t poodlefied)? “Don’t you ever go near him again.”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles was still mortified when he showed up at school, but Smashingo couldn’t afford to be. For the first time in a long time, Scott got to a meeting on time. Smashingo shoved him into a wall. It was therapeutic!

“Let’s get one thing straight, hero. We’re not getting civies involved in this.” He hissed, scowl the worst sort of challenging behind his mask. “Stay away from Scott McCall.”

There was time for foreplay and funsies. Now was not it.

“I’m Smashingo! I know everything!” The noodle master threatened, and for a second, he couldn’t control the way his body wiggled. Some things couldn’t be contained. He jabbed an accusatory finger at the hero’s face, eyes wild behind his mask. Yeah, maybe -  _maybe -_  Stiles knew he’d always been a little too selfish, maybe he knew he’d been a little too reckless, maybe he worked for all the wrong reasons, but he would rip Wonder Boy to ribbons if it meant saving his best friend. Scott was the sort of person who would try to save the world. If Wonder Boy took advantage of that, the gloves would come off. He had a hard time believing in heroes, or in other people in general, and Scott was what dreams were made of (wet or otherwise).

“You don’t bother him anymore. He’s not your dog sitter,” Smashingo warned. “I’ve had enough nefarious poodle plans to last me a life time! So you just… You just.” He threw another pointed finger wag Wonder Boy’s way before crossing his arms over his chest unhappily. “This is between you and me and that - weird poodle asshat, Wonder Boy. Let’s keep it that way, deal?”

Smashingo had been watching him closely enough to know he’d taken a poodle home? Oh man, was this guy noodling in through his windows at night or something? This was beyond creepy, who knew what kind of evil plans the villain had for him or why he was so obsessed. “You remember that too.” The hero snarled sharply, shoving Smashingo away. “You stay away from him, he doesn’t need someone like you messing up his life or being a creepy stalker. If I ever catch you anywhere near him, his family, or his roommate, I will personally pull your arms off and slap you to death with them. Understand?”

Focus, don’t let yourself get distracted. Save the sheriff first and then deal with this pasta headed idiot before he became a real threat. “I looked into our suspect, the name I kept coming up with is Isaac Lahey. He’s a student here, worked in the psych lab before all the dogs disappeared. If anyone is connected to this, it’s him. We need to track this guy down and get some answers. If he’s not the Poodler, then he’s our best chance and finding out who is.” Wonder Boy squinted at his nemesis, suspicious. “Are you sure you can handle this without trying to attack first and ask questions later?”

“Remember your terms, hero.” Smashingo warned, injecting as much annoyance as he could into four words. It helped soothe his flip-flopping stomach. Paranoia was the worst nag, and Smashingo couldn’t keep a straight face as he wondered whether or not his nemesis was using a thinly veiled threat to point out he knew exactly who Stiles was too. If he had his sights set on Scott, then he must have been willing to knock out all his competition - through any means necessary. That was how dating worked, right?

He huffed, and pretended he hadn’t been thinking about shaving Smashingo’s head and maybe throwing him through a car crusher. He crossed his arms over his chest, and huffed again (but quieter), “Don’t worry. I can handle playing nice. Lahey - can we agree not to call him the Poodler?”

Smashingo scowled extra hard, because it was really difficult not to crack a smile. He was totally smooth. “Should be somewhere around here.”

He pulled out one of the fancy new phones he’d stolen from the mall. It had the most up to date GPS, and he pointed out a couple of highlighted warehouses. “Only places big enough to keep a bunch of poodles unnoticed.”

“Then that’s where we start.” Wonder Boy took command in true hero fashion, ignoring the nervous twist in his gut or the wall his enemy rolled his eyes. He lept into the air and left Smashingo behind, if the villain couldn’t keep up, then that wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t some kind of taxi service.

The boy circled the warehouses, trying to pick up any clue and wishing that cockatiels had x-ray vision. That would make his job so much easier. He landed between two large rusting warehouses and examined the outside for broken padlocks or anything that might give away an angry horde of people poodles like…like a mass of tiny dog prints in the mud. Bingo!

No one owned these buildings and the likelihood that Lahey could have rigged traps without risking his dogs was low. He was just some kid on a revenge trip, not some kind of ultimate supervillain. Everything he’d done so far felt like pure rage instead of careful planning. Whoever this boy was, he was hurt and probably scared. There had to be a way to bring him in without anyone getting hurt. “You okay there, noodle for brains?” Wonder Boy snarked. “You can stay out here and let me handle it, I wouldn’t want you bruising your delicate self.”

Did he - did he really? He was just going to…? That ASSHOLE!

Smashingo squawked like he was doing a Wonder Boy impersonation, eyes bulging in their sockets as his arch nemesis grew smaller and smaller. This was the only time he was sad to see the feathered freak go, and Smashingo just stared. It was his fancy intel! He was supposed to call the shots!

He should have thought of a better getaway vehicle. He could have kicked himself for thinking that they would… Car pool. (He was never going to live this down.)

Taking nearly twice as long as the brightly colored bird brain, Smashingo arrived fashionably late. He might have arrived sooner, if he hadn’t stopped to dramatically pant behind a wall where  _no one could see him_  and break into that vending machine. Seriously, no one ever warned people that spandex costumes made everything so much grosser when you were sweating.

“Shut up,” he wheezed. Sure it wasn’t his finest come back, but he wasn’t passed out on the ground. Smashingo was very impressive, thank you very much.

Smashingo turned an entire door to dried spaghetti and kicked it down. He was super intimidating, and his ego took the consolation prize.

“Could’t figure out how a door worked, bird brain?” He snarked over his shoulder, and entered the lair of the beast.

It smelled like you would expect.

It took them all of two seconds to realize that there was no one here, and half the stuff probably had nothing to do with the Poodler at all. There were empty cans and broken bottles and way too much dog fur, but Smashingo made a beeline for the table in the middle of the room. It was the only piece of furniture without a layer of dust on it.

Wonder Boy watched his nemesis and couldn’t figure out why he’d ever been worried about this idiot. He looked like he was dying and the hero almost felt bad. Could a noodle be that out of shape? It wasn’t like Smashingo didn’t give him a run for his money whenever they fought and he filled out his costume pretty well. Broad chest, slim limbs. Not that he’d ever noticed, the guy was walking pasta. Now it looked like Smashingo was going to heave out his breakfast.

The hero just rolled his eyes and followed.

The warehouse reeked and he covered his face with his hand as he wandered through the empty room. The Poodler was long gone, but he  _had_  been here. There were getting closer to him, following the breadcrumbs until they caught the guy. It was a good sign even if it meant there was still more work to do. The villains next stop had to be somewhere like this, big enough to house his dogs and abandoned so they wouldn’t be noticed.

He wandered more slowly over to the center of the room, looking down at the mess of papers covering the table. Oh hell yes! That curly haired dingus had left plans behind and he pounced, trying to shoulder Smashingo out of the way. “Dude, you’ve done your part getting us here, but you really should leave this next part to me. If these have super secret poodlefying instructions, you know I’m not going to let you take anything.” Oh man, the Poodle Noodle? It would be just his luck if his lame nemesis did something stupid to double his dumb powers.

One thing on the table caught his eyes and Wonder Boy paused, dragging his finger across the name. Isaac Lahey.

It was with great pleasure that Smashingo shoved his hand into Wonder Boy’s face and pushed. He didn’t even try for his mask.

“ _Really_?” Smashingo took a lot of offense at that. “Seriously, what kind of self-respecting -  _anybody_  turns things into poodles?” Noodles were quieter, and could be turned into food without needing to shave anything. What’d he even call himself? The Noodler? The Poodle Noodle. Smashingo made a face.

Besides, he was sweating all over the plans. That was the physical equivalent of calling dibs. He sent Wonder Boy his haughtiest glower, and hurriedly peered over the plans. “Look, dingaling, there’s no way you’re cutting me out now. You wouldn’t have found this place without me.”

His gaze was still drawn to the hero’s movement. Smashingo swallowed audibly, turned his glower up a notch but softly admitted, “And we wouldn’t have a name without you. Don’t make me beat your scrawny butt into next week to prove a point because I will.”

Also Smashingo may or may not be fully aware that Wonder Boy’s butt was very well filled out. He was taking that to his grave.

Then Smashingo smirked. “Yeah, buttmunch, how does it feel to lose the moral high ground?”

But his mood didn’t last long. It took a few minutes to understand what he was looking at before everything clarified in the worst sort of ways. The Poodler wasn’t looking into how to turn people into poodles; he was looking into how to turn  _the entire city_  into poodles!

“You’re never the moral high ground, you’re a useful tool. Emphasis on  _tool_.” Wonder Boy said with a huff. Like he could ever think this loser criminal was in this for any other reason than himself. He talked a big game about wanting to protect someone, but he was a creeper who preyed on his alter ego like some kind of stalker. “And the person who turns things into noodles maybe shouldn’t judge other stupid villains and their crazy plans to take over the city. Some of us have to actually clean up after you people, you know.”

He was letting himself get distracted again, Smashingo’s real superpower was finding all the worst ways to annoy him. Wonder Boy shook himself, turning his attention back to the table so they could find this Isaac guy and he could finally get away of noodlebrains before he boiled him with meat balls.

“Geez…” The hero shuffled through the plans, his stomach sinking. “Whatever this guy’s problem is, he’s going to drag everyone into it. The whole town’s at risk, how does he have this much power? It shouldn’t be possible!” If Isaac was turned by whatever it was at the college that affected him too, there was no way he could be so strong without finding something to augment his powers. Or someplace?

“Look, whatever he’s planning, he’s got to do it soon and it’s going to take a whole hell of a lot of energy to do it.”

“Your face is a tool,” Smashingo snipped back, scrunching up his nose and mimicking Wonder Boy’s stupid face. It was so stupid, he didn’t know how his nemesis walked and talked at the same time. “And for the record, I’ve never hurt anyone.”

Or turned them into poodles! That was Smashingo’s best defense and he was sticking to it.

He still squished the tip of his chin, squinting at the plans like they might start making sense. After all, if the Poodler had the power to poodle-fy the nation, he wouldn’t need plans. He’d just do the do, and leave everyone to an eternity (or roughly fifteen years) of sniffing butts.

“You still have that leash,” He pointed out. “What makes it work?”

“I’m not really sure.” Wonder Boy popped open the small pouch at his waist and pulled the leash out and carefully, setting it on the table and making sure not to touch his reluctant partner. It would be dangerous to explain where this came from because it came to close to revealing his own secrets, but the entire town was at stake and he had to take the risk. His secret identity wouldn’t mean anything if he was the last one in town still human. Cockatiel. Whatever.

“There was an accident at the college. I don’t know what happened, but there was some kind of energy that leaked out of the secure lab and people got hurt. I’m guessing that’s what happened to this Isaac guy and where his powers come from. It’s got to be what makes this thing work too. The kid had his entire life stolen away from him, no wonder he’s so angry at everyone. But maybe…we could use the energy still in the leash as a way to track him?”

Or maybe Smashingo could, his own similar power source might throw everything off. “Do you think you could find something we could use? Make a poodle compass?” 

“Hmm…” Smashingo replied, features scrunching into a giant scrunchie as he considered the very dangerous item in front of them. For all he knew, it would explode. This whole ‘saving the town’ business really was quite traumatizing, and he still had to beat a colonoscopy. 

“Some kinda energy - that’s not vague at all.” He could be extra snarky if he wanted to. For now, Smashingo settled on above average output, and rested his hands above the leash, careful not to touch it. Wonder Boy was probably just waiting to turn him into a poodle. If his nemesis pushed him into the leash, Smashingo resolved to chew on his ankles.

There was something there, a different sort of energy that tugged on his powers in a way everything else didn’t. Smashingo concentrated on it. Maybe he could turn himself into a poodle compass? Then the entire table turned to pasta and shattered. Smashingo clasped his hands in front of himself and twiddled his thumbs. “So… That went well.”

He shrugged. If either one of them was a poodle fighting expert, they wouldn’t be in this mess. “On the plus side, there  _is_ something there. We just have no idea what. Maybe we can borrow the university labs? They’d have a Geiger counter at least.” 

The hero jumped as the table disintegrated in front of them. “Wow, seriously?!” He fished the leash out of the pile of crunchy dried pasta and put it back into his pouch, unhooking it from his belt and holding it up. There was no way he’d let his nemesis have such a dangerous weapon unsupervised, who knew what kind of nefarious plans were bubbling around in his head. Wonder Boy was under no illusion that all this was some kind of trick and if Smashingo could turn it to his own benefit, he would in a heartbeat. Being the second most powerful villain in town was as bad as being the least powerful.

“I could get us a Geiger counter if you think it’s some kind of radiation, but I’m not convinced it’s gonna be that easy. What we need is something that can track the same sort of energy, almost like a…” Wonder Boy’s face lit up and he grabbed the other boy’s shoulders, shaking him hard. “Like a  _dog_. We need to get some of those poodles, they could lead us right to the source if we give them a trail to follow and I know where to get two of them!”

“What?! Now the homeless people who come here can have dinner.” Smashingo was all about improving the lives of the unfortunate. Except when he was too busy squawking at his archnemesis.

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD LEAVE SCOTT OUT OF THIS!”

He went  _hard_  for Scott McCall. Zero to sixty in 3.5. Logic caught up a second later, but Smashingo had already tipped his hand. Worse still was that Wonder Boy wanted to use his dad. Wonder Boy knew his dad was a poodle! He couldn’t turn back now though. That would be admitting he fucked up. He still squinted as hard as he could manage at seed breath.

“If you’re going to talk to him, I want to be there. You can’t just kidnap his poodles!” Especially when one was the Sheriff.

“No way!” That would be an awkward explanation and he had to keep his nemesis away from his alter ego no matter what. “You stay away from him, I have no idea how you even know Scott anyways. He’s a nice kid and he doesn’t need some crazed villain stalking him” Wonder Boy shoved a finger into Smashingo’s chest, pushing him back.

“ _I’m_  going to talk to Scott and  _I’m_  going to take the dogs. I’ll meet you back here in a couple of hours. If you follow me or try to see him, I swear I’ll break every brittle pasta-y bone in your spandex, understand?”

He hoped the threat would work, he was going to have to figure out how to deal with this creeper soon. The hero didn’t give the other by a chance to answer, he headed for the door and flung himself up into the sky. At least spaghetti couldn’t fly.

“YOUR HEAD CREST LOOK LIKE DICKS!”

Smashingo raged in futile desperation. His nemesis was not going to use his dad to fight crime! Never mind that the Sheriff would probably volunteer his services, if he could! NEVER! He just had to beat Wonder Boy to Scott. What if Wonder Boy ambushed Scott at the doctors?! Smashingo couldn’t keep up with that. 

Smashingo had to beat Wonder Boy to the  _dogs_.

He couldn’t run home, but he could break through someone’s bike lock. He really didn’t care if they needed that. All his careful countermeasures and identity hiding strategies went out the window. He couldn’t let Wonder Boy get to Scott when he was vulnerable. He couldn’t let his Dad do something so dangerous; the Poodler might turn him into two poodles next. Also, he really just didn’t want to?

He raced across town, huffing and puffing, and incredibly amazed that he hadn’t killed himself doing the who Smashingo thing. The Stiles of Highschool Sloth would hate him. He kicked the bike to the curb, just remembering to strip off his costume. Maybe he wasn’t too late. It hadn’t even been half an hour! Take that Wonder Brat!

Then he pushed open the door to the apartment he shard with his best friend, and looked on in dismay as Scott leashed their… Guests. Trying not to wheeze too badly, he ran his fingers through his hair, styled it with gross sweatiness, and crooned (very smoothly, Stiles would like to point out). “Hey, how’s your butt?” 

Scott gaped in shock, dropping the leashes as he moved immediately to his roommate’s side. “Dude, what the hell? Are you okay?” Stiles looked like he was going to keel over at any second and Scott gripped his arm firmly, tugging him into the apartment and over to the couch. “Sit down and breathe, let me get you a glass of water.”

Geez, had he been mugged or chased?! The poodles bounded around Stiles excitedly, happy about all the commotion and yapping their own commentary as Scott dashed to their tiny kitchen for a glass of water. He pressed the cup into his best friend’s hand, sitting down next to him and brushing back Stiles’s sweaty bangs to check him for any injuries.

“Down boys, calm down. Shhhh, it’s okay.” Scott subdued both poodles with head scratches until they settled amiably at their feet, chewing on the leashes as he rubbed his friend’s back. “You’re safe now, just rest for a second. Tell me what happened. Should I call the police? You’re not hurt anywhere are you?”

“No - just. Stairs. So you know. Stairs…” Stiles huffed and puffed, smothering himself in water. He was pretty gross, but being around Scott made everything so much better. He leaned against him, shamelessly wiggling his way into his arms. Stiles was not above competing with their house guests for attention, especially when that attention came in the form of concerned Scott and his magical fingers.

“Hey…?” He panted, tucking his face into Scott’s throat and shamelessly limpet-ing him. Screw Wonder Boy, he could wait a year. “Are you going some - somewhere? Don’t go yet. I’ve got… Questions. Um. How’s your butt?”

There smaller fuzzbutt of a dog rested his head on Scott’s lap. Stiles was not above using canine shields to keep Scott trapped in a nest of happy cuddles. He resolved to slowly dissuade his roommate from helping the careless, reckless enemy.

Scott wrapped the other boy in his arms with a laugh, ignoring the sweat. “You’ve got to watch those evil stairs, bro. They really sneak up on you.” He teased, switching his attention to the puppy’s sad little face as it begged for head rubs. It really was a cute little thing, maybe when all this was over, they’d be able to keep it? All the other dogs would turn back into people but this was sort of an upgrade on being an ant. After so long as a dog, would it even be able to go back to the bug life?

“My butt? Oh! Yeah, no it’s fine. Sorry.” He cringed inwardly at his lame excuse. He really should start making a list ahead of time and planning it better. Talking about his butt was humiliating. “I just can’t stay, I have to take your Da-, the dogs out for a walk. They’ve been cooped up all day, I’ll run them around for a bit before coming back. You just sit here, maybe by the time I’m back, you’ll have caught your breath.”

Oh no, he was hot.  _Super hot._  Scott smiled, and the world seemed so much brighter. Stiles’ gut knotted a thousand times over, and all he could think about was how he wanted to make his best friend smile again. He dragged the other man closer, practically into his lap, and squished Scott into a hug. Wonder Boy could suck it. Smashingo was going to be late.

It probably wasn’t fair to risk the fate of humanity this liberally, but Stiles had never so successfully asked someone out before. It was kind of terrifyingly awesome.

“Well like - not tonight tonight. I mean, it’s super late. We shouldn’t be going out at all,” he babbled on, plan half-formed at best. Stiles had to find a way to contact Wonder Boy, maybe rub it in his face that Scott wasn’t going to help him and then tell him that all the other stray poodles were being held at the local vet clinic. Then maybe make out with Scott and smugly inform the world that Scott was already taken, thank you very much. “We could sit around and like, I dunno, just… Hang out? And like… I wanna take you on a date, Scott.”

His face wasn’t supposed to be this red or this splotchy. Stiles was sure he was going to pass out. “I wanna take you somewhere nice.”

After this, he should retire from the superhero business. He had a responsibility to try and use his powers to help people. What happened to him wasn’t fair, but there was a chance he could turn it into something good and important. He saved lives and protected the town, but it was all at the cost of his own life. His grades were suffering, he was always exhausted, and he was missing out on things he wanted. Really, really wanted.

Scott smiled, curling his fingers under Stiles’s jaw and kissing him just enough to feel the scruff of his own unshaved cheek against the other boy. A real date with Stiles, it sounded perfect. He’d give almost anything if he could stay and pull his friend down on the couch, order take out Thai food and watch some dumb movie with too many explosions. It wasn’t fair!

“I want to go on a date, dude. I want to spend time with you. Trust me, hanging out would be a lot of fun, but tonight isn’t a good night. I have to take the dogs out, I have a couple of errands to do and I need to get a run in since I was busy all day. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m sorry.”  _You have no idea how sorry I am._

Stiles leaned into Scott’s touch, making his best friend hold him as he tucked his face into the other boy’s throat. They were running out of time, and none of this was right. What had Wonder Boy told Scott he wondered. What favor did he call in, or what demands did he make. Scott wouldn’t need to be threatened, but it would have been so easy for Wonder Boy to dangle his mother’s safety over his head in exchange for cooperation - in a nice way, of course. Or maybe he just told Scott he’d be saving the world. That sounded like a sacrifice his roommate would make.

He ran his hands up and down the length of Scott’s body, hating how they’d have to say goodbye so soon. He had to trust that Scott would leave the superhero-ing to the heroes. If Wonder Boy had Scott show up in some awful bird-themed sidekick outfit, Stiles would kick him into next year.

They had to do this. They had to! It was the only way to save Stiles’ dad, and everyone else who’d been poodle-fied. Stiles just wished he could guarantee Scott’s safety. Just look at what happened to Gwen Stacy.

He met Scott’s gaze evenly, cupping his cheek just enough that he could run his thumb over the mole just beneath Scott’s eye. Stiles kissed him like he meant it, slow and sweet, but unabashedly greedy.

“Hey Scott… Be careful with my dad.”

If this was how things were going to play out, so be it. It was smashing time. (Smash Time? Time to Smash? Catchphrases were hard.)

“I-I will. Of course I will.” Stiles’s mouth left the boy feeling dizzy and he wanted to know how much further he could  _push_. All he had to do was move a little, straddle his best friend and shove him back into the couch to claim that wicked, terrible mouth until it bruised. He felt molten, dangerous and gentle all at once. He wanted to make Stiles groan and beg, to press whispered promises into his skin and find out where he was ticklish to make him laugh.

He would make sure the sheriff was safe, nothing was going to happen to Stiles or his family while he could protect them. Scott traced his friend’s mouth with his thump and smiled. “I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry.” He’d worry enough for the both of them.

Scott made his escape before he could change his mind, leading both dogs out of the apartment for his “run.” As soon as he was out of sight, he quickly changed and grabbed both poodles under his arms, flinging himself into the sky as they howled in terrified canine unison. He landed at the warehouse, letting the dogs yap and bounce at the ends of their leash as he tried to calm them both down. “Shhhh, guys. It’s gonna be okay, I’ll get you home soon. We just need to wait for that idiot and then you can help us turn everyone back to normal. Just…if you remember this, sir, please don’t tell Stiles?”

Stiles watched Scott’s retreating back with a heavy heart. Wonder Boy should’ve just kidnapped someone else’s poodles. All he wanted to do was roll around and hug Scott and fart in his face a little. Stiles resolved to deal with this matter as quickly as possible, but it left a bad taste in his mouth. (No, not  _that,_ that was all Scott ad it was all amazing.)

It was kind of funny though. His secret identity was intact. Scott wouldn’t come home without the dogs, and he wouldn’t have the dogs until Smashingo and Wonder Boy were done with them. When all this was over, Stiles was probably going to be so grounded.

But he put on his big boy super ‘villain’ pants, and pedaled all the way back to the warehouse district, only to be immediately greeted by his poodle Dad. The former Sheriff lunged at him, running full force until he choked on his leash, and Smashingo squawked unhappily. He threw Wonder Boy his dirtiest glare before crouching by the dogs and petting them both. He really hoped one of them peed on Bird Boy.

“I bet you left Scott waiting on some park bench somewhere,” he grumbled bitterly. “Let’s get this show on the road.”


	6. Chapter 6

Every time Smashingo’s said his name, Wonder Boy’s heart dropped to his stomach. It was terrifying how easy it was to lose everything if his nemesis decided to attack the people he cared about. Stiles didn’t have any way to protect himself and what if Smashingo came looking for him at his apartment? What if he hurt Stiles and it was all Scott’s fault? The hero set his mouth in a grim line and did his best to ignore the barbs.

Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out the leash and held it out to the dogs who sniffed it gingerly. “Alright, boys. Which way did they go?” He wasn’t sure if they understood what he said or were just excited to play, but both poodles pulled at the ends of their leads, barking loudly. “You think you’re going to be able to keep up?” Wonder Boy challenged as the poodles started dragging him towards the road.

It was slow going, the dogs constantly distracted by trees, fire hydrants and other dogs. He nodded his head politely at everyone they past who stared at the two boys in spandex before hurrying away. Brightly colored costumes and masks meant trouble and they didn’t want any part of it. “I think we’re getting close, they seem pretty sure.” Or they did until the sheriff started licking his own butt. Wonder Boy filed that away as something else he’d never tell Stiles.

This was mortifying. Smashingo was pretty sure he would actually die of embarrassment. If there hadn’t been any documented cases in modern history, he was on the fast track to being the first one. His  _Dad_  was sniffing doggy butt. Nothing was sacred anymore.

Also, he was pretty sure they were on Instagram by now, not for a lack of growl-y effort on Smashingo’s part. They just weren’t very inconspicuous. Whenever they had the misfortune of being dragged into someone, he caught whispers of:

_“It’s those darn college kids again…”_

_“Is this one of those flash mobs?”_

Then the camel’s back broke. Smashingo didn’t think anything in life could prepare you for watching your Dad lick his own butt. He groaned dramatically, stomping his feet, and wiggling maybe a little too much. “This was a terrible idea!”

In the privacy of his mind, Smashingo could admit that he had a lot of hope riding on that idea, and every time the poodles rushed in the same direction, his stomach twisted, but not to Wonder Boy’s face. “They probably found, like, a giant pile a of bacon, or a dead squirrel, and they’re just -”

No sooner had he spoke did both dogs take off north, tugging on their leads like they wouldn’t mind ripping his nemesis’ arm out. Smashingo threw the hero a dubious glance. Nothing seemed different. But Smashingo wouldn’t have noticed a dog whistle going off, either.

The young hero held on for dear life as the two dogs yanked his arm nearly out of its socket. They’d caught some kind of scent or trail and it was the best guess, so he tripped along behind them and hoped his nemesis wouldn’t notice how graceless he was. It was easier when he was flying and there were fewer things to crash into. The dogs yapped excitedly, the smaller puppy nipping at the larger Sheriff as they tore down the street towards the park in the middle of downtown Beacon Hills. The boy was surprised that two dogs could make such a loud noise.

Wait…that wasn’t just the two dogs. There were answering howls, a roar of barking dogs that grew louder as they raced up the path towards the fountain at the middle of the park. Wonder Boy pulled back on his poodle guides, tying their leashes around one of the trees to keep them from running off. The last thing he needed was to lose Stiles’s Dad to the Poodler, he had promised to keep everyone safe and he wasn’t going to ever break that promise.

“Come on!” He yelled, breaking into a run and not checking to see if Smashingo was following behind.

The Poodler was standing by the fountain surrounded by his dogs, arms outstretched like he was communicating with them somehow. This had to stop, there were too many people in the area who could get sucked into the villain’s plans and his army of poodles was already too large. There weren’t many police officers left and if they were taken too, the city would be defenseless. “ISAAC!” Wonder Boy yelled, leaping into the air to face off with the other boy and hoping his name would distract him. “You need to stop this, revenge is just hurting innocent people.”

The Poodler gasped in surprised, gripping his chest like Wonder Boy had dealt a fatal blow. It took him a second to regain his composure, but he held a begrudging respect for the hero when he came back to himself. “You might have found Isaac Lahey, but it’s too late! Isaac Lahey’s dead! All there is is the Poodler!”

He laughed maniacally to the chorus of a bajillion happy poodles. It was hauntingly cute. That was a problem. The Poodler pointed an accusing finger at Wonder Boy’s chest. “You are my greatest nemesis, Wonder Boy, the only one who’s come anywhere close to catching me. I almost regret having to destroy you!”

Smashingo was insulted. 

“Shut up, Dog Breath!” He snarled, pushing his way past the colorful hero. Wonder Boy already had one arch nemesis, and Smashingo was very clearly the most potent threat (even if he was sort of, kind of grateful that Wonder Boy kept his word and his Dad was nowhere near any of this). “I’ll show you dead!”

They tried this Wonder Boy’s way. Warnings and words were ineffective. Smashingo brought out his tomato canon and got a clear shot at the Poodler’s chest. With a howly-yelp and a splash, the villain fell over.

The dogs  _charged._

They couldn’t hurt the poodles, they were innocent victims in all of this even if they bit with adorably sharp little teeth. Wonder Boy shook off a poodle that had latched on to his ankle, molting a bit in distress as he floated about the fray. The dogs lept at him, trying to grab anything they could reach and pull him back down. He smoothed down the crest of feathers along his head and let Smashingo handle to horde.

“No killing!” He called out, hoping he didn’t need to remind the other boy that they were both being heroes at the moment.

The Poodler staggered up to his feet, dripping with red. He tried to scoop the tomato sauce out of his eyes enough to scowl, but Wonder Boy was there first and punched him hard enough to send him splatting back down in the tomato goo.

“Isaac, you need to  _stop_. People are getting hurt. I know what they did to you and I know what they took away, but this isn’t the way to make it better. None of these people did this to you, they don’t deserve this.” Wonder Boy tried to plead with the Poodler who waved his hand threateningly.

“You all hurt me! None of you were there to help, that makes it all your fault too.”

Wonder Boy didn’t see the poodle that attacked from behind until it knocked him off his perch and down into the chaos.

Smashingo would have been appalled by the implications Wonder Boy was implying if he wasn’t too busy trying to avoid becoming a chew toy. It wasn’t an easy job. Not everyone could fly. There were too many sharp little teeth, an incredible amount of shedding, and the sound of a thousand police sirens going off at once couldn’t possibly be this shrill. At one point, he’d had a puppy in each arm, but that felt kinda too cruel, even for him. Smashingo let out a jaw-dropping war cry and raised walls of pasta from the dirt like Moses had once parted the Red Sea.

It was through that moment of reprieve that Smashingo noticed his fallen partner. “Wonder Boy!”

He scrunched his face up, pouring all his concentration towards boxing his arch nemesis in.

If anyone cared to know, it was possible for a fully grown poodle to destroy a wall of pasta. Smashingo bet not even Google could confirm that. But he was bowled over by a squirmy, shedding, wriggling mess with horrible breath.

“AAAH!”

Stiles freaked the fuck out when his mask was torn away, but better than then his face gouged out. He fought his way to his feet, unaware that the Poodler had thrown himself at Wonder Boy with a war cry of his own, too long and terribly gangly limbs flailing at the hero with a terrifying fury. Stiles brought his arms up to shield his face, then went back to shielding his ankles because  _ow._ His quick thinking saved the day. All it took was some focus, and suddenly, a block of pasta encased his head. Stiles had to poke out his own eye holes though.

Wonder Boy was drowning in puppies, was it possible to drown in puppies? He was dragged down, the curly little beasts biting down hard on all his vulnerable areas and it was all he could do not to send them flying. They were innocent.  _They were innocent_. He couldn’t forget that, using his strength on them would get someone hurt. Smashingo’s weird pasta powers gave her a moment’s breathing room, but breathing was the last thing the hero could do.

He just caught a flash before Smashingo hid his face behind a pasta mask, but there was no mistake. He would know that face everywhere and the world seemed to open up and swallow him. Stiles. His archnemesis was  _Stiles_. His best friend in the entire world was a superpowered criminal bent on his personal destruction. This had to be some kind of lie, a horrible joke. Stiles told him everything, right? Stiles liked him, they were friends and something…something important, something new. He was so shocked, he didn’t feel the punch until the Poodler was already on top of him.

The boy flailed, uncoordinated and still reeling. There were too many fists and too many needle-sharp teeth, Wonder Boy couldn’t take a hit.

“This is your fault too!” The Poodler howled. “This happened to me because no one helped me! Where were you then, hero? Why didn’t you save ME?”

“I can help you now!” Wonder Boy yelled back, throwing the villain off of himself. “If you stop being such a total douche.” He punched Isaac in the face and sent him sprawling. “Or I can beat you up first and then you can talk, totally up to you.”

The Poodler snarled, pulling himself to his feet, but as his arch nemesis(!!!) prepared for round two, he tipped his head back and blew into a tiny metal cylinder. He looked like a badass doing it, too. All at once, his army of furry friends charged like a tidal wave of fur and malice, bowling Smashingo and Wonder Boy over as they retreated deeper into the park.

“This isn’t over, Wonder Boy!” Echoed through the night, but the villain recognized when he was outmatched, even if he wasn’t outnumbered. He’d just need a better scheme to tackle the caped crusader and his awkwardly themed side-kick.

Back at the fountain, Smashingo tried to pick himself up. After fighting a tsunami of dog, his everything hurt, and he had to remake his pasta box. He dragged himself to his feet with a frustrated groan, double-checking to make sure his everything was still in working order, before he slumped against the concrete. He wasn’t confident that it hadn’t been peed on, but desperate times and all that. 

“You dead, Bird Breath? I feel dead.”

Wonder Boy swayed up to his feet, uniform torn and tiny bloody bites slowly healing. He shook his head, tiny feathers drifting slowly around him. He felt shell shocked and not just because the Poodler had escaped and he’d gotten his ass kicked by a flood of tiny dogs. Again. His brain refused to process the information, his best friend was his worst enemy. What had happened? Did Stiles know who he was? Of course, that’s how Smashingo knew about his secret identify. He panicked, trying to think of any slips he’d made, mistakes that could have exposed him to a roommate he trusted.

He’d been betrayed.

“I’m fine.” He brushed himself off and ran his fingers through his feathers. “We lost him, we failed.” At least they foiled his plan to turn the entire city into poodles, but it was only a matter of time before Isaac recovered and tried again. They were running out of time and Wonder Boy didn’t know who he could trust anymore. Without a word, he stalked back across the park to rescue the Sheriff and the ant-poodle. “From now on, I’ll do this myself. I don’t need your help anymore.”

WHAT?!

“Woah, woah, hey, wait a second!” Smashingo complained, adjusting the block of pasta that hid his face before he scrambled after the hero.

“You always do this! Just get it through your birdy brain-y skull that we’re better off working together than not. You would’ve been dog chow without me!” Never mind that they both nearly were; they had to find a way to counter a barrage of dog. Smashingo shivered. They were a  _they_  now. “What did I do this time?” He huffed, impatiently, rolling his eyes so hard it was impressive that they managed to stay in his head. He trotted back towards their house guests, who looked almost disappointed that they couldn’t follow their floppy brethren off into the night. Smashingo scratched the Sheriff behind the ear and turned him into a puppy puddle with minimal effort. That probably should have been Wonder Boy’s first clue.

“You can’t possibly think I’d really work with that guy?” Smashingo asked again, and a hint of worry laced his words, a little too close to home for his comfort. Whether or not he liked it, Wonder Boy was his best bet at getting his dad back to normal and the idea of facing a bajillion poodles on his own made his stomach drop. “I mean, he turns good people into poodles. You gotta be a special brand of evil for that.”

“We’re  _done_.” Wonder Boy snapped hotly, unsure if he wanted to just run or knock that stupid pasta block off of Smashingo…Stiles’s face and demand answers. He was such an idiot, falling for someone who could be not just a criminal, but the once person in the whole world who wanted to destroy him most. He’d been played and he fell for it, too trusting and caught up in the thrill of having someone actually like him. Not the superhero, not the fighter, just plain old boring Scott. “I think you’d know all about special brands of evil.”

He untied the two dogs from the tree and scooped them up, one wiggling poodle under each arm. They hadn’t done anything wrong, he would still protect them and see them through to the end. It would be harder on his own, but what little trust he had for Smashingo was gone. Somehow, it was easier to trust an unknown superpowered villain who claimed to be his nemesis than his own best friend.

“I was right about you this whole time, I was just too focused on saving the town to see it. Stay out of my way. I don’t need your help anymore and if I see you again, I’m going to haul your scrawny ass to prison, understand?” Wonder Boy wasn’t sure he meant the threat, but he was angry enough to give it a try. “Just leave me alone.” Without another word, he sprang into the sky as the two dogs howled.

Alone in their apartment, Scott let both poodles loose and changed out of his uniform, shoving it into the back of his closet. Stupid, stupid…he’d gotten himself into this mess because he hadn’t been careful. Being Scott was boring and most of the time, completely overwhelming. He’d been lonely and directionless until the accident, living entirely through Wonder Boy because it gave him a chance to be a hero. To be actually noticed. Stiles had been the only one who saw him for who he was, and it had all just been a lie.

“But - but I!” Smashingo would have been ashamed that he’d been hit so hard if he wasn’t too busy licking his wounds. He never expected Wonder Boy to become his new best friend, but normally, when he pissed someone off, he was proud he did. Intent made bragging so much more appealing, and there was nothing more he’d enjoy than rubbing his awesomeness in his arch nemesis’ face. Not like this though, not when he’d been working so hard at cracking open this case. “Wait a second! We’re not done here!” 

It was too late. Wonder Boy was just a speck in the sky, and his Dad-poodle’s howls echoed in his wake. Smashingo cursed under his breath when he realized he had to beat them home.

He stumbled through the door, sweaty and gross and incredibly unhappy. This was probably for the best. Wonder Boy was just holding him back or something. He just had to deal with the gnawing pit of tension in his gut, but then, Smashingo would be back on the case. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t. His Dad was counting on him. He just needed… He just really needed his best friend. Hopefully Wonder Boy hadn’t gotten to him first.

Stiles was in civilian clothing, but he still barreled into Scott at full-pasta-y speed. He grabbed the other boy tight, worming his way into his arms before he could even think up an excuse. He shoved his face into Scott’s neck, fretting fussily. “Missed you. Missed your floppy butt.”

Stiles was sweaty and gross, but any other time Scott wouldn’t have spared it a second thought. Now, he shoved the other boy away. “Dude, don’t. You’re all damp.” He couldn’t stop seeing the similarities now. The same shoulders, the same line of his body that Scott couldn’t help but have noticed when it was wrapped tight in spandex. The same bold, fearlessness and rampant ego. All the things he’d fallen for, it was so clear now that Smashingo had been the same person. He’d been so freaking blind, how could he have missed all the signs for so long? He’d been blindsided, too caught up in his stupid crush to ever see the danger. He wasn’t going to fall for it again. This was all probably some act to get close to him, find out his weaknesses and use it against him. Scott couldn’t put anything past the villain, he was so proud to be Wonder Boy’s  _arch nemesis_  that none of this could be real.

He wished it wouldn’t feel quite so devastating.

“I’m sorry, I have a lot of homework to do tonight.” Scott said, grabbing a few slices of cold pizza from the fridge and stuffing a can of soda into his pocket. “I really should get back to it. The dogs are pretty worn out, so you probably won’t have to take them out again tonight. I’ll see ya.”

“You liiiike damp,” Stiles started to tease, but the punchline punched him in the throat when his roommate walked away. His brows furrowed in concern. There was something big that he was missing here, something monumentally awful, because he didn’t think Scott had ever given him the cold shoulder. Stiles tripped over himself running after him. ”Scott?”

He was assaulted by a pair of slobbery dogs, fresh from the water bowls who nipped at his ankles and soaked his jeans. He invited himself into his best (bro- boy- butt-) friend’s room, but his bluster and snark had nowhere else to go. Normally Scott gave back twice as good as he got. He was always the most perfect thing to come home to, after the rest of the world was the worst, even before the kissing benefits.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, awkwardly fidgeting by Scott’s bedside, crestfallen and unashamed of it. Could Wonder Boy have said something to disturb him? Or maybe, a wicked voice whispered in the back of his head, Scott was just concerned with Wonder Boy being all scratched up and angry. But that sounded too much like his own voice, and Stiles wanted to punch himself in the face for it. "Wanna make out?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Scott said, opening a random text book and pretending to read so he didn’t have to look up into Stiles’s face. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch it as hard as he could or if he’d break down and forgive Stiles because they were friends. Maybe were still friends? What the hell were they now? A few hours ago, he’d been giddy because they were going out together and there was a chance they could actually date.  _Date_  date, like a boyfriend. “I can’t, I’m just really busy right now. Maybe some other time, dude.”

He hated fighting with the one person he thought was his friend, but betrayal rose in the back of his throat like bile and Scott pointedly ignored the way Stiles hovered by the side of his bed. “Could you maybe give me a little space right now? I have to get this finished for tomorrow and I’m already behind.”

 _Say something. Tell me I made a mistake and you’re not who I think you are. Convince me this was actually real and you’re not just using me to get to Wonder Boy._  Scott kept his eyes locked on the page, unable to process a single word.

Space, right, Stiles could totally do space. He was going to be the king of distance-making. He was smooth and not clingy and he totally could do distance. Scott would get all the distance in the world! Scott would get the distance-iest distance to ever distance. Stiles just had to plaster himself to his side for a little while longer.

His hand fluttered over his best friend’s shoulder, like Stiles had really tried to keep himself from reaching out and smoothing his palms over the other boy’s ridiculous face. This was such a problem. He’d messed up. He didn’t know how he’d messed up, but he did, and he hadn’t had a  _dating_ -friend for a day, and he was already messing up. Make outs were supposed to fix everything!

Scott was supposed to fix everything. He was always so good at it, so good at making Stiles forget about everything and anything that bothered him, and the brunette had taken it for granted. Now he didn’t know how to return the favor.

He swallowed thickly, torn between readjusting Scott’s sleeve back to the way it was or just blending in with the wall. When he finally piped up, he sounded like he was scared of Scott’s answer.

“Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“No, dude. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Scott said quietly and he hated how much it hurt. He could just pretend he still didn’t know and reach out for his best friend, dragging him down into the sheets with him. He could run his hands down Stiles’s ribs, kiss along the line of his jaw before teasing apart those maddeningly teasing lips. He could just let go for the night, stop being the hero and the one who always had to worry about what was right and wrong. Who knew how far this could go if he just stopped fighting and let it run.

The boy sighed and dragged his fingers through his short black hair. This was a mess, it was supposed to be the simplest thing in his life and his superhero side had ruined it too. He didn’t mean to resent it. Even if what had happened was an accident, unasked for and destructive, Scott had promised to use his abilities to help people. It was an opportunity to do some real good. How many people wished they could be a superhero? How many would have gotten hurt if he didn’t step in? He just never realized how much it would take over his real life until he wasn’t sure if there was anything left.

Sometimes, Scott missed being normal. “I’m sorry, Stiles.” And that was the truth.

Stiles inhaled sharply, like he’d been punched in the gut. He wasn’t sure he was still standing, swaying on his feet, and if the ground swallowed him whole, it would be a mercy. He could feel his face flooding with color, embarrassed and hurt. He didn’t know what he did to mess things up with Scott so spectacularly. A few hours ago, he was begging his best friend to stay, willing to throw away the fate of the whole city if it meant holding Scott for that much longer.

“No, no it’s cool, I mean… You’ve got work to do. You’re busy. Busy happens. School sucks,” Stiles tried to reason, shoving an out in Scott’s face as bright as a neon light. School was a good excuse as any. Except they were normally so good at dealing with school together. No one else could make Stiles forget he had any sort of responsibilities to the world like his best friend. Stiles had the sinking feeling that he was losing him.

“I’m just going to be in my room, okay?” It was a non-answer. Of course, he’d be in his room this late at night. There was no way Scott wouldn’t know that, but Stiles’ voice still hitched, and his expression twisted, and quietly, he begged Scott to stop him. “I’ll just… Good night, dude.”

Scott didn’t answer, trying to keep how miserable he was from showing on his face. Stiles was the one who was wrong! He was the villain, the criminal! He was the one who mocked him and hurt him and Scott’s heart still squeezed painfully. As awful as Smashingo was, Stiles was that much better. Their lives together couldn’t have all been a lie, they’d laughed too much together and Scott couldn’t forget the way it felt when Stiles kissed him. Or the way he wanted more. They were arch nemeses, you shouldn’t want to kiss your enemy!

“Night.” He waited until Stiles had gone before knocking his book off the bed with an angry thump and flopping back on his bed. He dragged his covers up over his head and decided he was never going to get up ever again. The city was fine if he hid himself away and refused to leave his apartment, right? They’d find a way to stop Isaac, Stiles could figure it out on his own. It might not be the world’s best plan, but he couldn’t come up with something better.

The ant-poodle nosed its way into Scott’s room and hopped up on the bed, curling up against Scott like it could sense his mood. The boy snaked one hand out of his sheets to scratch the puppy’s head. He couldn’t give up while Isaac was still out there hurting people. After that…well, maybe it was time to hang up the spandex.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles woke at the butt crack of dawn to catch Scott before his morning run, but his roommate(s and dog-guests) was already gone. Somewhere between waiting for the front door to open and hoping Scott would rush into his arms with a heartfelt naked apology (or maybe just an apology and a hug, and maybe he’d let Stiles pet his face a little), he fell asleep. He was woken by drool on his thigh, and his Dad-Poodle’s soulful, probably hungry gaze. Scott was already gone.

Stiles should have gotten the hint. He just - couldn’t. Losing his best friend felt like a punch to the gut, and he wandered around campus with even less intention of keeping up with his school work than normal, counting down the minutes until he could leave class and track down his best friend. At least, Stiles hoped they were best friends. Honestly, after the Poodler attacked, classes should have just been suspended forever.

Scott was prone to moments of sadness that he never could quite explain. It had taken Stiles a little too long to notice, in his humble opinion, but he’d become something of an expert in the ways of Scott McCall. It was written in the ways Scott went quiet, shrinking in on himself like he expected to be overlooked. The way his smile slanted a little too far to the right, and how much more prone he was to curling around his pillow. This could just be one of those moments, as awful as they were. Scott could just need some time to himself, but Stiles didn’t think he’d ever been shut out so thoroughly before.

Which was why he found himself outside the biology labs, carrying a spectacularly sparkly banner that said:  **SCOTT MCCALL IS AWESOME HE SHOULD DATE ME!**

Maybe it was too early to pull out the big guns (like a lot early, and Stiles had like, one girlfriend, he knew), but Stiles always spoke best with big dramatic gestures. Heck, Scott was taking care of his Dad. He could do one poster. But when the doors to Scott’s class opened, he was holding his breath.

Avoiding Stiles was more difficult than people thought. His roommate was determined, but Scott was just as stubborn and managed to slip away before another awkward conversation. He didn’t even know what to say, how could he ever explain without telling Stiles his secret identity? If Smashingo had known they were the same person, he’d have never been so upset about Scott McCall being involved. It explained away the creepiness of his nemesis knowing his name and his secret was still intact, but it was only a matter of time. Stiles and Smashingo, his best friend and his worst enemy. He’d fallen for one of them, but he wasn’t sure which one was the real one.

School was never ending and Scott could barely pay attention. The margins of his notebook were scrawled with nervous doodles and he kept his head down, not talking to any of the other students in class. If he could just get through the day, maybe he could duck home for a quick dinner and spend the rest of the night looking for the Poodler. That way he could keep from seeing Stiles at all.

Damn his roommate for having other ideas.

Scott gaped at the sign, cheeks burning as people gathered around to watch. He felt stupid for not having expected this, Stiles and grand gesture were one and the same. The boy hooked his arm around his roommate’s, dragging him out of the crowd of people and down the hall leaving a trail of glitter before finding an empty lap and shoving them both inside. “Dude, what the hell?!” This was invasive and embarrassing and way over the top and…really sweet. “You’re such an idiot.” Somehow, Scott made the insult sound endearing.

The best-worst part was when their audience started to clap. Stiles waved over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, feeling incredibly smug. Then Scott kicked it up a notch when he sounded like that.

“Wait, wait I’m not done!” Stiles crowed, completely oblivious to the storm clouds thundering over his best friend’s skull. The poster knocked against the door frame when he shuffled into the lab, bending it almost in half, but that didn’t stop Stiles. Right now, nothing could. He turned in a flurry of sparkles to show of the back of his sign.  **I MESSED UP** was outlined in purple and pink, and scribbled in permanent marker underneath it was,  ** _I’M SORRY._**

Stiles glanced over his shoulder and wiggled his glittery butt. His heart was pounding in his chest, so fast that he thought he was going to be sick, but it was worth it. If he got Scott to just - stop feeling like shit, everything would be worth it. Stiles didn’t know what he’d done, not exactly, and with anyone else he’d have flipped them off and moonwalked out of their lives (with no grace, decorum, or subtlety). With Scott it was different. Scott wasn’t the sort to let just anything bother him, not even the worst of Stiles’ fart jokes or the messes he left in the bathroom. If Scott was mad enough to start acting like this, it had to be something big. Stiles refused to let it bowl him over.

“Don’t make me get out the glow in the dark paint, dude.” But he dropped the poster like it meant nothing, inching closer until his shoes nudged Scott’s, and that was probably too close for people who weren’t supposed to be talking or whatever. Scott always made him brave. “Two words: penises everywhere.”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh, guilt rushing in a moment later. His dumb, wonderful best friend with the over the top affection. Stiles never knew the meaning of the word subtlety and Scott wished he could be so brave. How could such a dork be someone so evil? Well, maybe not  _evil_. Definitely a criminal, though pasta powers weren’t the scariest thing a supervillain could have. “Just stop, dude. We can’t do this, okay? I already told you, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He kept his grip on Stiles’s arm like he could somehow hold on to the part of Stiles that was real. Was he this boy Scott adored or was he the one gloating on a rooftop, trying to beat him until he didn’t move? Scott sighed and pried the poster from his roommate’s hands, setting it on one of the lab tables with a sprinkle of glitter and looked into the other boy’s eyes. It seemed so genuine, Scott almost believed him. Almost.

“Stiles, I haven’t had a lot of friends before in my life. Not really any before I met you, not any that meant anything like this. I’ve had a lot of bad people though, cruel ones and angry ones. People who made my life Hell in school and my Dad…my Dad wasn’t a very good person. I can’t have any more bad people in my life. It took a lot of work to put it all behind me and try to start again and I-, I’m not sure if you’re one of them.” The boy hung his head, angry at himself for wanting to forgive so easily and angry that he hadn’t already forgiven. “I’m sorry.”

“I’d never hurt you.” And Stiles didn’t understand what he was getting himself into, because making that promises was still the easiest thing in the world. Every step Scott took back, Stiles took two forward, boxing in his best friend against a work bench with an expression that was so earnest it made his face hurt. Stiles didn’t put his hope in a lot of things, and put even less of it in people, but Scott had a lifetime supply to all of it.

He cupped his best friend’s cheek, more careful than most thought he could be, carefully coaxing him to meet his eyes. Something must have spooked him, dating jitters, probably, and look at that. Stiles was going to fix it. Stiles was going to be a relationship guru, and then they’d make out, and maybe Scott would let him touch his butt.

It never occurred to him that Smashingo would have anything to do with this. He was always careful with his alter ego. He was safe, right?

“Dude, I’ll - I’ll beat up anyone who ever tries to hurt you. I’ll fart in everyone’s face.” The joke fell flat, but Stiles wouldn’t stop trying. There was glitter on Scott’s cheek now. Stiles liked it there. “You know me, Scott.”

Scott’s smile turned brittle and he put his hands on Stiles’s chest to shove him away. Stiles wouldn’t hurt him, but Smashingo? The guy had a sick sort of glee in handing him his ass. Sure, Wonder Boy gave it back just as hard and there were plenty of times he’d won, sending the villain slinking away to avoid capture. All those wounds and bruises and nights spent trying to coax his battered body to heal, his best friend had been promising to fight on his behalf while being the reason for all the pain.

“What if that rabbit turned out to be someone I didn’t think it was. Like, I thought it was a rabbit and then it turned out to be a..different kind of rabbit?” Okay, that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Scott took a breath and tried again, jerking himself away from Stiles’s glittery hands. He was angry and he had a right to be, the boy needed to keep reminding himself that so he didn’t cave and wrap his arms around his best friend like everything was okay again.

“What if I  _don’t_  know you, Stiles? What if I don’t actually know anything about you at all?”

“Scott…”

It felt too much like he was making a mistake, but Stiles took the coward’s way out and let his best friend go. He just wished Scott hadn’t taken his heart with him.

Stiles avoided their apartment. He wasn’t sure he could go back right now. He’d remember to buy a dozen doggie biscuits in apology, but for now, he wanted to be as far away from their home as possible. He wondered if he was being paranoid or if Smashingo really was the root of all this. He had no other secrets from Scott, or at least, no other secrets that were worth fighting over. Sure, he sometimes didn’t really soap up the dishes after he rinsed them out, and maybe he drank straight from the carton too often, but they could work through that. Stiles really really liked him, and it looked like Scott really really liked him back.

Stiles avoided their apartment, so Smashingo took to the streets. He never had to do this before, the whole patrol thing, even if he liked to listen in on the police radio channels growing up. They were the easiest way to stave off boredom. The costumed pasta master weaved in and out of deserted streets, on a motor bike he borrowed from the police impound. He had a list of places he expected the Poodler could be, or at least, places he expected could hide a shit ton of dogs.

That didn’t mean he had any hope of concentrating.

Scott hid behind his mask. It was too confusing and it hurt too much to be Scott McCall right now, but at least he could retreat into Wonder Boy and pretend his broken heart didn’t ache. There was work to be done and as long as he could focus on finding the Poodler and putting a stop to him before anyone else was hurt, then he didn’t have to think about his empty apartment or what he’d have to say when he went back home. Or worse, if he had to start looking for a new place to live. He couldn’t risk his identity living with his arch-nemesis, it was only a matter of time before Stiles found out who he was and then what? Better to just things all at once no matter how much it hurt.

The Sheriff and the ant-poodle had helped him before, but Wonder Boy didn’t want to risk them again (or risk running into Stiles), so he was on his own as he tracked the Poodler through the city. Beacon Hills was a decent sized place, but there weren’t too many buildings that could house that many dogs without someone noticing. They had to be fed and taken care of, that meant access to food, and there had to be enough space to fit them all. The warehouse had been compromised, so Isaac probably wouldn’t have gone back to the same place.

It lead him to an old hospital near the edge of town. There was enough space for privacy and it was close to a bulk grocery store, no one would notice large purchases there. It was a good a lead as any. The hero landed outside the building, cautiously approaching and listening for any sound of muffled barking.

Creepy didn’t cover it. Smashingo didn’t like hospitals to begin with, but the older and dustier they got, the scarier they did, too. He crept along the roof, already convinced that he could right off this location and maybe scrub himself in a tub of boiling water. Hospitals were just - not good places. Then he saw the most peculiar sight, and cursed  _everything._  Seriously, dude, hospitals.

In a straight line, poodles were marching into an open ambulance and patiently filling it in until there was no room. There were already three more empty ambulances waiting to handle the overflow. Smashingo had no way of knowing that nearly every free poodle in the city was making their way through the sewers to meet up with the rest of their brethren. The show was just starting.

He secured his tomato gun, set it for extra ripe and used the fire escape to break into the building. It was go time.

Bingo! Wonder Boy’s hunch paid off and he whispered a silent thank you for his luck. It had been a long shot after a day of failure and if it wouldn’t have given his position away, he’d have whooped in success. Something today had to go right. He peeked around the corner of the building, watching rows of poodles moving in lines. What was this guy thinking? It was obviously some kind of attack, but Scott couldn’t figure out the plan. Were they going to target some place in the city? 

There had to be more. There was a reason Isaac had picked this place instead of any other and his nerves jangled in the proximity of the same kind of energy that flowed in his own veins. The Poodler was doing something to increase his power and it hummed like electricity in the air. A radiation that burned against his skin.

Wonder Boy settled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. Alright, it was show time! He was about to step out of the shadows when he knocked against someone else lurking and bit back a yelp. “Smashingo!” He hissed. “What are you doing here?”

Smashingo turned, waving his tomato gun around with a snarl that only deepened when he noticed who he bumped into. Never one to let go of grudges, he was only too happy to blame jerkface Wonder Boy for everything that happened to him. First, his arch nemesis turned on him! Even if they weren’t on the best terms (since… forever, probably), that didn’t mean the hero had the right to get all huffy on him before Smashingo did anything to threaten him. Then his best friend turned on him, too. There was something all too convenient about all of that. It all went back to Wonder Boy being a giant frothy dick.

“Saving the day,” he spat venomously, squaring his shoulders and fixing his enemy with a bitter glare. “And if you get in my way, I’ll kick your ass, too.”

He turned away from the hero, half-hoping he would start a fight, but mostly hoping he turned into bird turd. He started working his way back through the hospital, busying himself with inching open the fire escape.

“I told you to stay out of this!” Wonder Boy hissed back, grabbing Smashingo by his spandex and snapping it hard. This stupid, stubborn boy. Some he wondered how he could have missed the fact that Stiles had been Smashingo the entire time. They had that same cocky attitude, the same way they never listened to reason. They infuriated him just the same, though Stiles had always made things better with a grin and a joke, melting Scott’s resistance. He couldn’t let him get away with this now. This was Wonder Boy’s mission and he didn’t want the distraction. It was dangerous enough facing off against the Poodler without worrying if his best friend was going to stab him in the back.

It was awful that he even had to consider that as a possibility.

He pushed passed the villain, trying to see him as only Smashingo now, and headed deeper into the hospital. There was some sort of commotion ahead and he could hear Isaac barking orders. “Careful with that, don’t spill it. We’re going to need every bit if we’re going to turn them all!”

Wonder Boy’s skin prickled, fear and something else. The same kind of strange pins and needles as that blast of radiation that first changed him. He immediately turned and put a hand on Smashingo’s chest. “You need to stay back, there’s something dangerous up there. You’re going to get hurt.”

Smashingo squawked, embarrassingly high-pitched, and made a grab for his offended boobs. Spandex was always so damn tight.

“Well, suck my dick, Bird Nerd. This ends tonight. Whatever dumb bullshit you have with me, you can shove up your ass.” It ended tonight, probably with a spray of tomato paste and the wailing of a thousand dying poodles. Smashingo wasn’t proud of his preparations, but he would bring the Poodler to his knees with a whistle, a stuffed rabbit soaked in drugs, and unlimited fences of pasta. Smashingo briefly wondered if his fights would be less weird if he just gave up the spandex. (And dramatically, he wondered what was worth taking it off now that he’d lost his best friend.)

He swatted at his nemesis’ face and scurried through the hospital. Peeking out from behind a corner, Smashingo still couldn’t keep in the gasp at what he saw. Row after row of poodle waited as their poodle master gave them each a piece of meat. Sure, feeding time was important, but the bright yellow  _Radiation_ safety labels behind the megalomaniac weren’t very comforting. Whenever a poodle chomped on their awful lunch, their fur puffed up and glowed, like psychedelic dandelions. Then the line moved on.

“ _Monster_.”

Smashingo was breathing hard, and dared a glance over his shoulder, glaring at Wonder Boy through his mask. 

“I’m destroying his whatever that stuff he’s poisoning them with. You’re either with me, or you’re out of my fucking way. Deal?”

Wonder Boy grabbed his nemesis’s arm, holding on tight to keep him from rushing on ahead. “Be careful, okay?” His words were quiet, but there was nothing but concern in his voice. He might have been angry and betrayed, but if anything ever happened to Stiles, he’d never forgive himself. The hero only let go reluctantly, fingers lingering on the villain’s elbow. Without another word, he lept into the air with a soft woosh, hovering over the Poodler and his furry minions.

There were too many for them to take together, but there wasn’t time to call what was left of the police force for backup. It was too dangerous for them, if they lost any more cops then they wouldn’t be able to keep order in the town. He had to trust Smashingo as much as it gnawed at his insides with worry. The sooner they took down Isaac, the sooner things could go back to normal. Whatever normal was. The hero frowned at the radioactive canisters, trying to identify the materials. He knew that hospitals kept radioactive stuff around, but they were supposed to have safely removed it all when the building shut down. Either Isaac had stolen this from the school lab or he’d found some abandoned canisters here.

With his immunity, that was the target. Let Smashingo deal with the rest of them, he needed to get this poison out of here before anyone else was hurt. Like a stone, the hero dropped from the ceiling and snatched the canister from the Poodler’s grasp, sending Isaac sprawling. “NOW!” Isaac fought back with an enraged howl, clawing at Wonder Boy’s face as the dogs rushed to attack.

Something nagged at the back of Smashingo’s mind, the most disconcerting sense of deja vu. It left him scowling at the hero’s head, even more so than usual, and there was a question he was supposed to ask. He knew it. If he asked the right one, it would unlock everything, and in the center of it all was Wonder Boy. Smashingo just didn’t know how he got there.

A beat passed, and his nemesis  _fwooshed_  into the air. Smashingo did his best to shake off his hang up (but he wished he’d gotten to say a proper goodbye to his best friend).

“It’s over, Poodle Brain!” Smashingo roared, and threw a long hose into the air, cutting through the dogs’ attack formation. The sound of crackling pasta filled the air as an intricate mesh of noodles surrounded the horde. spreading from the plastic tubing. A mob of confused fluffy creatures barked and yipped. Smashingo swayed in place, head spinning, fingers still shaking with magic-drain as he fought to steady himself before he brought out his next weapon. Blowing into the dog whistle would have been super anti-climatic, except a symphony of howls tore through the hospital. Poised to punch Wonder Boy’s lights out, the Poodler lurched forward and sang right beside his minions. It was over. They were going to win!

“TO PHASE C!” Though pinned in high-pitched agony, Isaac still roared. They didn’t immediately notice the sound of ambulances starting.

_Shit!_

Wonder Boy couldn’t let the ambulances leave the hospital. Whatever Isaac’s plan was, it stopped here and no one else was going to get hurt. He grabbed one of the metal radioactive containers and brought it down on the villain’s head with a metallic clang, sending the Poodler sprawling and unconscious.  _Good! Now just stay like that for a minute so we can bundle you off to someplace that’ll give you the help you need._ He silently tried to reason with the villain as he wobbled up to his feet, breathing hard. The poodle army was dwindling, the remaining dogs piling into the few ambulances left and trying to pick their way through a maze of crispy uncooked pasta.

“He’s down!” The boy called out to Smashingo, trying to make himself heard over the howling poodles. “I’m stopping the ambulances.” He lept into the air, racing off after the automated vehicles that blared their sirens as they went careening towards town. Smashingo could hold down the fort without him, he was faster and if one of those radioactive poodles tried to bite him, he’d be ready. Where were they possibly going? Some kind of coordinated attack on the city? Was there some gathering they were going to target? The lead ambulance veered sharply left, bypassing the downtown and heading around Beacon Hills towards the reservoir.

He was already gone when Isaac blinked open his eyes and wiped the blood from his nose, reaching for one of the radioactive canisters.

“Wha- Wonder Boy!” He tried to protest, but the do-gooder was already flying out of sight. Already ambulances were pulling out of the garage, their sirens blaring, driven by bright, glowing poodles. Not only were they surprisingly obedient, but they were poodles on a mission. Smashingo snarled, clenching his fist with dramatic flare. Then a poodle latched unto his ankle, and it took everything in him not to send it flying. 

The pasta maze needed to be fortified, but just because he knew what had to be done, didn’t mean he had to do it with a smile. The next time he see his arch nemesis, he was going to give him a piece of his mind and maybe a few right hooks. The dweeb had no concept of teamwork! Smashingo rounded up the rest of the dog, and shot a tomato blast into the Poodler’s back because he deserved it. Then he remembered to call the cops to pick them up.

Stealing an ambulance of his own, he gave chase. Isaac came to just as he backed out of the docking bay. With a vicious snarl, the super villain tore open their container and chomped on a handful of radioactive isotopes. His arch nemesis had no idea what was coming.

Across town, the high speed chase tore through the streets, with roughly a bajillion dogs joining the chorus of blaring sirens. The first to arrive piled out in a mess of organized chaos. The pack made steady progress closer and closer to the water supply of Beacon Hills. And there… They would pee.

Wonder Boy landed hard on the roof of an ambulance, denting the metal as he tried to hold on. It drove without anyone behind the wheel, some kind of automated system plotting its course. Isaac had to have been some kind of scientific genius to pull this off, no wonder he had access to the science labs at night when everyone else had gone home. He could have used all of this for good instead of turning on the town. Someone could have helped him sooner, Scott could have helped him before he’d been so lost and angry. People could change if someone gave them a chance. …could Smashingo?

No, the hero couldn’t let himself be distracted. He leaned forward and punched through the windshield, tiny cubes of safety glass flying in all directions as Wonder Boy yanked the wheel to the side. The ambulance went careening off the road into a ditch. He lept free, hovering in the air before slamming his body against the side of another ambulance to send it off the road. Ugh, something in his chest cracked at the impact and Wonder Boy gasped in pain. There was still too many of them, he had to head them off.

Poodles raced towards the reservoir, ready to taint the drinking water with radioactive pee and the hero was out of options. He landed in front of the pack and yelled at the top of his lungs. “ **BAD DOG**!” The poodles scrambled to a halt, milling around in confusion. “ **SIT!** ”

_“Stiles, are you okay?”_

Smashingo whipped his head around so fast, he thought it’d dislocate from his spine. His breath caught in his throat, horror clear even beneath his mask. Any chance of weaseling his way out was gone before he’d opened his mouth. It was the hitch between the syllables of his name, the familiar warmth in a tone that suddenly reminded him of so much. Everything made so much sense it fried his brain. The last piece of an intricate puzzle fell into place, and Stiles realized he had been looking at everything upside down. It all made sense now! Scott and Wonder Boy! Their fights, the coincidences, the - the poodles!

But it was over. It was all over.

Smashingo didn’t realize he was screaming until it was too late.

“SCOTT!”

The hero was gone, the only thing that was left was the fading rings of energy pulsing from the heart of the explosion. Hero and villain destroyed together, but the city was safe. All over town, naked crowds milled around trying to figure out where they were and where the hell their pants had gone. The missing half of the Beacon Hills police force did their best to help guide the former-poodles while trying to maintain their dignity with whatever scraps of fabric or “appropriated” clothing drying on people’s clotheslines that they could gather.

The light over the city finally faded, sky returning to the bright blue of a California spring. There was no trace of the Poodler, but a few long white feathers caught in the breeze fluttered down around the reservoir to rest in the grass.

Smashingo screamed himself hoarse, as a thousand confused voices joined his and the howls across the city faded. Pandamonium reigned, but all he could think about was finding his arch nemesis… His best friend. He tore through the city in a stolen ambulance, trying to get higher, a barely formed idea telling him to get to high ground. If he could get a helicopter, or a jet, or a fucking kite, if he could just get up in the air, he could find Scott (Wonder Boy!), and he’d be okay. Everything would be okay, if they could just, if Stiles could just find him.

He had to abandon the ambulance after a high-speed chase with a very confused and overwhelmed police cruiser ended with it in a ditch, but he didn’t stop searching! He didn’t intend to. He just needed a new idea, needed stitches,  More - tomato refills, more clothes. He had to move quickly. He had to just, he just but  _Scott!_

When Stiles opened his room, he found his dad, not quite as furry, with ears that didn’t flop so much, wrapped in his blanket, and terrified to see him. Stiles pulled off Smashingo’s mask and started crying like he was five all over again.

Anything the Sheriff could have said was lost in embarrassing blubbering and too many hugs, but the one, comprehensible thing he could have gotten out of his son was something he wished he’d never hear. “ _He killed Scott_.”


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next few weeks, the University of Beacon Hills held far too many memorial events, and some people would never look at poodles the same way. One name among many, inscribed on a chiseled placard to remember those who’d perished during what was now known as the Reign of the Poodler was ‘Scott McCall.’ The police force was slowly pulling itself back together, along with the rest of the town, and there had been a 200% increase in donations to the local pound. Smashingo wasn’t seen again. Smashingo never would be.

With a tired sigh, Stiles dropped himself on a wobbling chair, the last bit of furniture in the living room. Everything he owned had been shuffled into boxes. The room beside his hadn’t been opened in days. In his hands was a poser, an incredible stupid poster, one with a proud hero with a bright smile and a brighter costume splashed across it. Looking back, Stiles didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. It should have been funny. It as something he would have laughed about if he had someone to laugh with, but if Stiles was being honest with himself, he didn’t think he would ever laugh again.

The first thing he was aware of was the heat, a burning, bright hell. Then came the pain, every breath rattling in his chest as bone ground against bone. Scott blinked open his swollen eyes with a groan and winced at the blinding sunlight. He couldn’t remember what happened or how long he’d been lying in some strange desert, the only thing he was sure of was that he was dying. The next time he woke up, he gasped, lips split from dehydration. Scott managed to peel his mask off of his sunburned face and drag himself up to his feet, but it wasn’t long before gravity pulled his broken body back down. He drifted in and out of consciousness for days.

When he finally opened his eyes again, the too bright sun had been replaced with white walls and giant medical machines. He tried to flex his hands, pulling at the tubes that pumped fluids back into his body and picked at the clean bandages that covered his cracked and blistered skin. There were too many doctors all asking him questions he didn’t understand, so Scott just closed his eyes again and slept.

He’d usually healed so quickly from his wounds, a side effect of his powers, but the explosion, radiation, and days of exposure had exhausted his abilities. It took too long for him to piece together what happened and when he could finally speak, no one knew anything about an Isaac or where he’d come from. He’d been found next to a highway in Arizona, almost dead by the time help had arrived. When they asked his name, Scott feigned confusion and they settled on “John Doe.” Arizona…he was so far away from home, had the blast really carried him that far? Had Isaac survived too? He felt a pang of guilt, but he’d saved Beacon Hills and that’s what mattered. Now he just had to get home.

Scott stole a pair of scrubs, exchanging his patient’s gown for something a little less naked across the backside. He couldn’t let the doctors find out who he was or connect him with Wonder Boy, especially with all the anomalies in his medical workup. After all they’d done to save his life, he was just running away without so much as a thank you. Maybe someday, he’d be able to pay them back. The young man snuck up to the roof of the hospital, swaying on his feet before throwing himself up into the air. He was already exhausted and his powers faltered, but he was hours from home and he needed to get back to tell his mom he was okay. To tell all of them.

It took another two days for him to finally make it back to Beacon Hills, almost delirious with exhaustion as he landed heavily on the roof of his apartment building. After this, he’d sleep for a week, he promised himself. His own bed, his own life and everything back the way he was supposed to be. Scott stumbled down the stairs and rattled the door of his apartment, frowning when the handle refused to turn. With the last of his energy, he slammed his shoulder against the door until it popped open, sprawling face down on the floor.

Yeah, floor was close enough to his bed. That worked too.

There was some fucker at their door, and if it was those losers from down the hall who’d forgotten how to find their apartment, Stiles would not be held accountable for his actions. He set the poster down with an embarrassing amount of care, hands balled into fists and teeth grinding. He had a whole rant set up, ready to chew up and spit out whoever disturbed him when all he wanted was to be left alone. He lost it all to a terrified shriek, pasta dropping everywhere.

Then Stiles was dropping, too.

It couldn’t be. His eyes were playing tricks on him. His brain was broken. His - something, but Scott! Scott was there! That was SCOTT! His heart lodged in his throat as the brunette scrambled to his friend’s side, dragging him close like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Doubt and disbelief took a moment too long to catch up, but it was too late. Stiles buried his face in his best friend’s hair and sobbed.

“Scott? Scott! Oh shit oh shit is it you is it! Say something!” He babbled, cradling him close as their neighbor tentatively poked her head out of her door. Scott’s skin was warm to the touch, his clothes covered in sweat and dust, but Stiles had him now. He was never letting go.

His knuckles brushed against the swell of Scott’s cheek, thumb carefully tracing the curve of his chapped lips. Sunburned skin and windswept hair should have told him everything, but it took Stiles too long to move, too long to do anything but hold on.

“You’re okay, all right dude? You, you’re freaking me out. Just stay with me okay?” He pleaded, gently pulling Scott to his feet, and nearly knocking them both over in the process. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Hey.” Scott smiled weakly against Stiles’s fingers, draping himself across his best friend and letting the other boy support his weight. He was home, every part of his body seemed to sing with it. He was finally safe and he could feel the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. I didn’t have a phone.” It was an absurd excuse, but at least it was the truth for once. No more lies, he was done with trying to hide things from his best friend.

Scott knotted his hands in Stiles’s shirt, tears leaving streaks down his dirty cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” There were too many things to apologize for: the fight, the secrets, making Stiles worry about him. He never wanted to see that look on his friend’s face again. He ignored the boxes, barely noticing the apartment had been packed up as he stumbled towards the couch and collapsed, dragging Stiles along with him. He kept his grip tight on the other boy to keep him from disappearing, Scott wasn’t going to lose him again.

His muscles protested and his chest felt tight, but Scott nuzzled down into his friend’s side and sobbed himself hoarse. Heroes and villains didn’t matter, they were just Scott and Stiles now. Maybe they’d always been and Scott had just been too upset to see it. He sniffed into Stiles’s shirt, wiping his face against the boy’s sleeve. “You’ve gotta call my mom for me. You’ve gotta tell her I’m okay, I’ll see her soon. I just…need a little sleep first. I needed to come home to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Scott, everything’s gonna be okay. I got you, buddy.” The words tangled together in a steady stream of reassurances that Stiles couldn’t pick apart if he tried. Everything blurred together, unimportant and vital all at once, because Scott was back. Scott was alive and safe, and everything in Stiles’ world shattered. He wrapped his arms around his best friend, holding on too tightly, but unwilling to let go. Scott looked like a strong wind could break him, and Stiles wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to fart.

“You’re messing up my shirt, you dweeb,” he hiccuped around a strangled laugh, but his fingers shook as he used its hem to wipe away messy tears. Stiles covered his face in clumsy kisses, before cupping his cheek, just to reassure him that everything was okay. Despite it all, he wanted to laugh. His heart was pounding so fast, and it felt like someone had punched out his spleen. Stiles wasn’t sure who’d need an ambulance more. He couldn’t stop touching, didn’t think he’d ever want to, not when he could make Scott look like that, so hopelessly relieved it wasn’t fair.

“Dammit, Wonder Boy, you always gotta be the hero don’t you?” Stupid, brave, fearless Wonder Boy. The worst part of it was, Smashingo was annoyed by everything Stiles loved, and that should have tipped him off months ago. “What, was your phone in your other spandex?”

And if Stiles cried, too, that was okay. It was all Scott’s fault and they were disgusting together.

It  _was_  okay now, letting himself relax into Stiles’s arms like his best friend could keep out the world for just a little while made it somehow easier to breathe. It didn’t even matter than his side was cramping or there wasn’t enough room for the both of them on the couch, there was nowhere on earth he’d rather be. “It’s a dumb shirt anyways.” Scott mumbled before mouthing another apology against the other boy’s side, sorry for ruining it anyways. He leaned his cheek against Stiles’s palm and finally found the strength to smile again.

“I can’t help it. I just want to help.” It all seemed so absurd now, poodles and spandex and superheroes. He hiccupped into Stiles’s shirt, sobs turning into a ragged and exhausted laugh. “It’s better than accidentally ‘pasta-ing’ all over the place, dude. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to eat spaghetti again. Thanks for ruining one of my favorite foods.” He reached up higher, grabbing the collar of Stiles’s shirt and pulling him down into a kiss. Tears and snot and being gross didn’t matter, he just needed to seal his mouth across his best friend’s like a promise.

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk. I should have told you once I knew, I was just so angry. I should have trusted that I knew  _you_ , Stiles. The real you. No matter how much of a…a ‘rabbit’ you were, the real you is always a hero too.”

Stiles through a forlorn glance over his shoulder, towards where the floor was lightly speckled with macaroni. “I couldn’t help it,” he whined. “You broke into our house.”

He wiped Scott’s cheeks with the tips of his fingers, then the broad side of their one couch cushion. They always forgot to buy napkins. Not for the first time, Stiles wished they didn’t, but even getting snot everywhere wasn’t enough to dim his mood, not when there were sloppy kisses to be had, and Stiles couldn’t stop touching his best friend.

Scott still managed to catch him off-guard. His arch nemesis was really going for the gold today. A defensive sort of shame welled up in his chest, and Stiles busied himself with what felt good, tracing the soft skin beneath his partner’s eye. Scott didn’t sound like he was blaming him, but Scott wouldn’t. That was all that mattered to Stiles. That meant he could make thing s right.

“I can’t help that I won  _every_  fight.” Stiles needed to get food in Scott, or at the very least, water. Instead, he pressed a kiss to his forehead, and wiggled out of his shirt, so Scott could rest his head on something that wasn’t snotty and grosser than usual. He kissed Scott’s crown, patient and careful like no one believed he could be, but all Stiles needed was the right motivation. Scott was the best kind.

“We saved everyone,” he added, voice barely above a whisper. “You did, when you… Jesus fucking Christ, Scott. How could you do that? You don’t just - you can’t just. I  _looked_ for you.”

Scott gave his friend a wan smile, curling into the couch cushions and gesturing widely at the packed up room. “It’s still our house, isn’t it? I mean…you’re not just gonna take the whole security deposit, are you?” He sighed dramatically as Stiles escaped his arms, missing him the moment he was gone. There was something comforting about being wrapped up in the other boy, resting his head on Stiles’s heartbeat and holding on, however gross it really was.

“You didn’t win  _every_  fight, you just ran away every time it looked like I was going to win.” He couldn’t resist teasing back. “Maybe I just felt sorry for you and your lame pasta powers that I let you go.” The boy’s smile softened, shy and hopeful. “I guess I’m glad I did now. I’m sorry I worried you, dude. I swear I would have called or come home sooner if I knew what was happening. I don’t even know how many days it’s been. I didn’t know what else to do and I wasn’t thinking, I just knew I had to get him as far away from people as possible. It knocked me out hard, everything hurts.”

He never wanted Stiles to worry about him, but his friend did anyways and as sorry he was for it, it light a warm flame in his chest. Stiles cared about him even after the whole mess between the two of them and all the lies they told each other. Maybe there was still a chance. “Hey…” Scott pushed himself up on his elbows with a grown. “You think that there might be a chance to reschedule that date sometime? We never really got the chance and I understand if you say no…”

Stiles was just the sort of person to blame someone for saving the world, but that was okay. Scott was the only person who would apologize for it. So he fretted, and shoved at his best friend, smoothing back Scott’s hair and revisiting all the places that left his gut flip-flopping in relief.

Then he realized the hard way that Scott was incredibly good at punching the air out of him. Stiles gaped, eyes wide and incredulous, doing a fish impression he’d long perfected under his best friend’s torment. Then his face flooded a splotchy pink that was so bright, it was a miracle he didn’t pass out. “ _Really_?!”

He squished Scott into their couch with a shameless flop, like an incredibly annoying blanket. Stiles recoiled at the last second, the full realization of just how uncool he was smacking him in the face. “I mean… Yeah. Yeah cool, that’s. Super cool.” He cleared his throat, but all the posturing n the world couldn’t wipe the excitement off his face. “But you’re serious? You’ve got to be serious, dude, no take backs. I mean… If you’re here, I’m not going anywhere.” 

His words tapered off into an embarrassingly fond whisper, and Stiles rested his forehead against his best friend’s. Despite his best efforts, his smile was slowly taking over his face. In five minutes, all he’d be was one giant smile, a giant hovering, floating smile that occasionally spouted out pasta, but it was all Scott’s fault. All Scott’s fault.

“I mean. Now I can afford rent.”

“I mean it.” Scott slid his hands into Stiles’s hair, guiding him down into a kiss. “I really mean it, totally serious, no take backs.” His grinned to match, carding his fingers slowly through short, messy brown locks. “You’re an asshole and a jerk. You have dumb powers and you’re so much better than petty crime, dude. If I didn’t have you, we wouldn’t have been able to save everyone. We could make a really awesome team if you ever wanted to try it again, in or out of spandex.” The boy stopped, flushing a deep red. “Uh…you know what I mean.”

He put his hand on Stiles’s face and pushed, embarrassed and laughing and so incredibly glad to finally be home. “You better not move out, I’d never be able to afford a place like this on my own and I don’t want the hassle of another roommate. What if they’re weird or something? They might have some kind of strange food based powers and pasta all over the floor. How would I ever be able to live with them?” Scott laughed, waving his arms like noodles before flopping tiredly back to the couch.

“You didn’t, like, pack my bed up yet, did you? I think I’m getting a spring in my back and I kinda want to sleep for a thousand years. I  _guess_  I could share yours if I had to, just until I got mine back or something. It might help save space anyways.”

Stiles had to defend Smashingo’s honor, but his best friend smiled, and he was blinded by the undiluted power of a rising sun. That was what the hearts in his eyes were telling him, and he couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t be one-hundred percent objective. “Shut up, dude. Do you know how much money we’ve saved on groceries, for like ever? You’ve been eating my pasta for _months_.”

Stiles was more than a little proud at the look of utter betrayal on his best friend’s face. It was ridiculously attractive on his already ridiculously attractive face. Stiles had to kiss him hard, before Scott found out, and the he had to kiss him again so Scott didn’t feel bad that they were just kissing to keep terribly attractive face secrets from each other.

“Dude we made… We made a really good team, until you flew into the sun,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the corner of Scott’s smile, just to feel it curve against his lips. Something heavy tugged at the center of his chest, left his heart racing in the worst sort of ways, but Stiles fought to keep his tone steady. “Haven’t been in your room since your mom came by. We um… I just. Didn’t wanna touch your stuff.”

He inhaled deeply, trying to shake himself without pushing his best friend away. Smiling was always easier around Scott anyway. “But I hear sleeping naked saves a lot of space.”

“Augh, gross!” Scott groaned, making gagging noises. “I’m seriously never eating Italian food again. It’s dead to me, I hope you’re proud.” Where did Stiles even make the pasta? Some questions were gross enough as they were without looking for more information. He couldn’t keep the scowl, it was impossible to be disapproving when his best friend was kissing him hard like he always wanted. He mewled into Stiles’s mouth, stroking his hands down the boy’s spine and beneath his shirt to trace along the skin. Stiles was so warm and soft, it hid all his sharpest points like an irresistible lure and Scott was happy to swallow the bait.

“It’s okay, dude. I’m okay and I won’t make you worry like that again.” He promised quietly. “Next time, we stay a team the whole way through. Just tell my mom I’m okay, I don’t want her to be so sad.” Being a hero was dangerous and there wasn’t any way to tell if he’d survive their next fight with whatever crazy villain crawled out of the sewer. If he had someone to watch his back, then they might just make it.

“Naked, huh? Well, these scrubs are pretty grimy and they aren’t even mine. I didn’t want to fly back from who knows where Arizona with my butt flapping in the breeze. I think it would help if I got out of them before I went to bed and I wouldn’t want to get cold.” This was flirting right? He was so tired and so bad at it even when he wasn’t. Scott laughed at himself, pinching Stiles’s ass. Enough innuendo and teasing, honest was his new policy. “I’m going to bed and I’m gonna take all my clothes off. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Arizona?!” Stiles protested, squawking with indignation and outright pity. Then he squawked to protest the awful things done to his butt (which he might have wiggled with intent). He flailed his hands, eager to ring an answer out of his best friend, but wanting to never discuss it again, at least not while Scott looked like sunburned death. He grunted at Scott, reluctantly forgiving him for getting himself thrown to Ari-friggin-zona, and being a terrible flirt all at once. Stiles blamed not being able to think straight on everything his best friend was.

“Look, butt, you’ve got serious issues.” Stiles told him in a tone fit to bear those serious issues. “Because I’ll be doing all the undressing.” His stomach did another flippy thing that left his entire  _everything_  tingling. He pulled Scott to his feet with a reverence generally reserved for superhero lunch boxes, carefully peeling him out of gross, dusty clothing. He’d seen Scott do the early morning shuffle to their bathroom, with all the grace of a newborn deer. Stiles wasn’t taking any chances.

Scott’s room was almost exactly like he left it. Funny how that didn’t hurt anymore.

The hero was swaddled in blankets and rolled into his bed, with many a grope, but Stiles just pecked him on the nose, and ran away to grab a couple of bottles of water and a bottle of peanut butter. Grocery shopping hadn’t been high on his list, and it was either that or the three month old jar of sweet relish.

Scott wasn’t used to being taken care of and he squirmed in embarrassment, sinking down into cool sheets that felt nice against his battered skin. He downed a bottle of water and licked peanut butter from his fingers. Home wasn’t complete until he pulled Stiles into the bed with him and relaxed against his best friend, trailing lazy kisses down the other boy’s ribs. He might need to sleep for a week, but he wanted to do it drooling on someone warm and comfortable next to him. 

He carefully tangled his legs with his best friend. More than that, a partner. Someone he could rely on completely and could tell the whole truth to. Stupid freaking Smashingo.

Maybe being the hero wasn’t so bad as long as he got the boy in the end.

There were fingers in his hair, and smooth cotton against his back. This was supposed to be super sexy and extra naked, except Scott really wasn’t complaining. He barely felt it when Stiles leaned closer, or the chaste kiss across his brow.

“Go to sleep, Bird Brain.”

Scott didn’t think it was supposed to sound that fond.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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